


Kis Katona

by raving_liberal



Series: Call Sign [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Actual Avengers Matriarch Pepper Potts, Aftermath of Torture, American Sign Language, Baby-Stealing, Call Signs, Cap Junior, Child Soldiers, Codenames, Dr. Cho's Awesome Medical Technology, Grocery Shopping, HOH!Clint, Happy Super Soldier Family, Hard Of Hearing Hawkeye, Hungarian (Hopefully Not Too Badly Translated), Hydra (Marvel), Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Feels, Jeggings, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Pepper Potts Feels, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Relationship, Questions of Parentage, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Steve Is The Slowest Super Soldier, Unreasonable Amounts Of Food, What Happened in Budapest, Where In The World Is Bucky Barnes?, Your Translation App Is Trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s downfall, Steve scours Europe for Bucky under the guise of locating and neutralizing Hydra targets. What he and Sam find in the Hydra holding cell isn't Bucky, though, but a small, filthy child soldier who screams at them in Hungarian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by Patch, who assures me this isn't going to be an embarrassment to our good name to post.

They find her in a cell in the basement of a Hydra compound outside Prague. She's filthy, caked in dirt so thick that only the pale rings around her eyes and mouth give any indication of her skin color. Steve can't even begin to guess at her age—he was always so small for his age, and other children seemed like giants, so while she's small, that tells him nothing—and he isn't even certain she's a girl, not entirely, until she shrieks something at him in a language Steve doesn't speak. He knows it isn't French or German, and though his understanding of Russian is still rudimentary at best, it doesn't sound like Russian, either.

“ _Ne küldjenek vissza a jégbe! Ne küldjenek vissza a jégbe!_ ”

"Sam?" Steve calls out, not taking another step towards the child, who bares her teeth at him, hissing like a cat. Her teeth are surprising white, given the state of the rest of her.

"Did you find something?" Sam calls back. Steve hears him hurrying down the narrow hallway, the sound of his boots familiar and reassuring. "Is it hi—oh _shit_."

"Yeah," Steve says. "It’s not Bucky. It's a kid."

"I see that," Sam says. "Any idea what they'd be doing with a—" He pauses, squinting at the child, before continuing, "Five, maybe six, year old child?"

“I think I probably don’t want to know, but she might be in the files,” Steve says. 

“Do we need to look at those before we take her?” Sam asks.

“Take her?” Steve says. “Where are we taking her?”

“Well, we can’t leave her here,” Sam says.

Steve says, “No, but I didn't think we'd take her with us… I thought, wherever it is you take missing children. The police or the Children’s Bureau?” Sam starts shaking his head, so Steve start shaking his, too. “No?”

“You’re putting way too much stock in this theory that she’s missing,” Sam says. "And in the theory that she needs to be found."

“She has to belong to somebody,” Steve says.

“Maybe she does,” Sam agrees. “And maybe she doesn’t. We don’t know how long Hydra’s had her, how they got her, what they’ve done to her, and you think it’s a good idea to put her in the system? Put any kind of record out there that she's been found?"

“Of course I don’t want that, but what about her parents? She could have—”

“Steve,” Sam cuts in. 

“They’d want to know she’s alive,” Steve insists. “They’d want to—”

“ _Steve_ ,” Sam repeats, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. He squeezes gently, and his voice softens. “You’re thinking about her like she’s just a kid, and maybe that’s all she is, but maybe she’s more than that. You've seen what they can do. We don’t know if they’ve trained her, or if there’s someone out there that’s gonna try to get her back. It doesn’t matter who misses her. Assess the threat. You send her anywhere with civilians, if she doesn’t hurt or kill them, Hydra might. You can’t put that on a little kid, Cap. You can't put it on any family she's got left, either."

Steve lets out a long sigh, shoulders slumping. “You’re right. We have to take her somewhere secure.” He looks at the girl again. Her teeth are still bared, and she’s backed into the far corner of the room, her back to the wall as she watches every small movement Steve or Sam makes. The way her eyes move, how still she stands, doesn't seem like normal child behavior.

“Any thoughts on that?” Sam asks. He squeezes Steve’s shoulder again, firmer this time, before letting his hand drop away.

“There isn’t anyone left in S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d trust with this, outside of the handful of people we’re already working with, and none of them are really equipped to deal with a…” 

“Steve?” Sam asks, when Steve trails off.

“I know where we can take her,” Steve says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, running his finger across the screen until the phone begins to dial. It rings a few times before a voice—the wrong voice—answers.

“Captain Rogers,” Tony Stark says. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Stark,” Steve says. “I was trying to reach Ms. Potts.”

“I know. That’s why I asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to reroute any calls to Pepper from anyone in any way involved with the Avengers Initiative directly to me," Stark says, sounding pleased with himself in that same smug way that his father alway did. 

Steve takes a deep breath and resists the urge to yell, since it would probably only serve the purpose of satisfying Stark’s need to ruffle Steve’s feathers. “We’re in the Czech Republic,” he says, finally. “A sensitive situation’s arisen.”

“Still off on your snipe hunt?” Stark asks. 

“Still shutting down Hydra cells and cleaning up other people's messes, if that’s what you mean,” Steve snaps back, even though he’s well aware that’s not what Stark means. “I’m not interested in another round of _Truth or Consequences_ , Stark, so if you’re not planning to put me through to Ms. Potts—”

"Pepper handles Stark Industries business. Avengers stuff, that's all me, baby," Stark says. "Care to explain what possible professional reason you need to speak with _her_ , not me?"

"There's a kid," Steve says.

"Aww. You and Wilson decided to adopt? That's sweet."

"Dammit, Stark!" Steve says. The girl doesn't so much as flinch, but her eyes lock on Steve now, dismissing Sam. "We found her in the facility. She's… not well adjusted, at the moment. We don't know who she is, what she knows." He hesitates briefly, watching the kid watching him. "What she's been trained to do."

"And there's nowhere else to take her," Stark says bluntly.

"No," Steve admits. "Believe me, I wouldn't have made this call if I had an alternative."

Stark lets out a small huff of air that sounds like a poorly-contained laugh. "Wait. Please tell me you weren't calling Pepper because—" The laugh isn't contained at all this time. "Please say it's not because you think she's got some kind of maternal instinct."

"She raised you, didn't she?" Steve counters, hearing Sam's soft chuckle next to him.

"Touchè," Stark says. 

"I thought she'd know who to call," Steve says. "She makes things happen. The kid's going to need things. Food, clothes. Long-term care, possibly."

"Therapy," Sam adds.

"Therapy," Steve agrees. "Medical work-up. Probably testing."

"Interrogation?" Stark asks.

"No," Steve says. "No. Whatever's been done to her, none of this is her fault. Nobody's going to hurt her. We'll figure it out."

"Fine," Stark says, his tone switching abruptly to one of casual disinterest. "I guess you can talk to Pepper. Bring the kid back here with you, too. I'll see if I can drum up a nanny."

"Thank you," Steve says. "Seriously, Stark. Tony."

"Just for the record, should I tell the agency she needs to speak Czech?" Stark asks.

"What?"

"The nanny," Stark says. "Unless you really lucked out and your feral Hydra child speaks English."

"No. I'm not sure what she speaks. She shouted something at us that didn't sound like what we heard in Prague. Not French or German. Don't think it's Russian, either."

"You think you could get her to say something again?" Stark asks.

"Possibly," Steve says.

"Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S.," Stark says loudly, and Steve hears the calm British voice answering directly into the phone. 

"Yes sir?"

"Captain Rogers is going to put you on speaker phone. I need a translation on whatever you hear."

"Very well, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. answers. "Captain Rogers? Whenever you're ready to proceed."

Steve taps the phone's screen, putting it on speaker, and takes a hesitant step in the girl's direction. She flattens herself against the wall even more. Steve keeps walking towards her, raising his free hand, palm to her, so she can see he's unarmed. She hisses again, but when Steve continues to advance, she begins to scream the same phrase from earlier.

" _Ne küldjenek vissza a jégbe!"_

"You get that?" Steve asks, stepping back again.

"Yes sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. "She is speaking Hungarian, sir. She said 'don't put me in the ice'."

Steve feels like the wind's been knocked out of him, and he turns towards Sam to see if he heard the translation. As soon as his back is to her, the child rushes at Steve, grabbing him by the arm and biting hard. His phone clatters to the floor, and Sam moves quickly, his hand flashing out in the girl's direction. Her jaw immediately slackens as she goes limp, sliding to the floor. Steve looks up at Sam.

"Sedative," Sam says, sounding apologetic even as he shrugs at the obvious necessity of it all. "You want him taken alive. Natasha gave me options, is all."

Steve sighs, picking the child up. She weighs more than she looks, but that's still not much. Sam picks up the phone, turning it off speaker and exchanging a few words with Stark or J.A.R.V.I.S. or possibly Pepper before ending the call.

"They're expecting us," Sam says.

Steve repositions the girl in his arms. "Then let's get the files and get out of here. If I'd wanted to get bitten in Prague, I would've invited Nat instead of you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Wilson's translation app is trash. Pepper Potts is better than your fave.

The child sleeps through the ride out to the airfield. Sam buckles her into a seat, bundling her up in several olive drab wool blankets while Steve talks to the pilot, who luckily has received the updated flight plan from Stark. Sam is already seated to the girl’s right when Steve gets back, so Steve takes the seat to her left, frowning when she doesn’t even stir during a particularly bumpy wheels-up. 

“How strong is that sedative?” Steve asks. He leans in close to listen the girl’s breathing, which sounds even and deep, if slow.

“Strong enough,” Sam says. “Natasha warned me it would probably take four or five for— well, you know. One dose shouldn’t be too much for her. I’m actually more concerned about it wearing off while we’re over the Atlantic.”

“Do you think—” Steve begins, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “I wish I could say that I believed even Hydra wouldn’t do that to a child, but I’m not that naïve. God only knows what they’ve done to her.”

“Want to look through the files while we’re in the air?” Sam asks. When Steve nods, Sam unbuckles and walks back to the large crate of files, carrying it up and setting it in front of their row of seats. They each take a folder from the crate, flipping through for anything that looks related to the girl – or to Bucky, even if neither of them says it. Steve’s first folder is full of inventories and receipts, mostly for lab equipment. He glances across the girl at Sam’s folder.

“Anything in that one?” Steve asks. Sam shake his head and sets the folder on the ground by his feet. 

“Personnel files, I think,” Sam says. “Could be files on her parents mixed in, I guess, but they have pictures with all of them, all in lab coats, most of ‘em with resumes attached. German’s not my strongest suit, but they look like some pretty damn impressive resumes.”

Steve nods as he pulls out two more folders, handing one to Sam before opening one himself. This one has a fat stack of medical records, filled out partially in German and partially in Russian. Steve runs his index finger down the page as he reads, looking for any keyword to suggest the records are for the girl or Bucky, but the German records give him nothing substantial and he can’t read the Russian records well enough to know either way. 

By the time the plane begins its final descent in New York, Steve and Sam have finished the paper files and started on the digital ones Sam copied to his flash drive. The girl stirs in the seat between them, frowning at the early morning sunlight streaming through the plane's small oval windows. She seems to wake enough to realize she's wrapped up in blankets and strapped to the seat, because her eyes open and the rest of her freezes into the uncanny stillness she'd exhibited in the cell in Prague. 

"It's okay," Steve say, pitching his voice low, hoping she'll catch his tone, if not his meaning. The plane jolts as it touches down. Her eyes widen more, white showing around the irises. Her eyes are greenish-bluish and give Steve an uncomfortable feeling of having seen them somewhere else. 

The girl flinches as the plane bumps again, slowing on the runway. Steve pats her leg in a reassuring manner. She hisses at him through her teeth without otherwise moving.

"Let me try," Sam says. He taps something into his tablet, which suddenly emits a pleasant-sounding woman's voice, speaking—presumably—Hungarian. The girl's eye snap to the tablet, then up at Sam. Sam grins. "Got her attention, anyway."

"Do it again," Steve says. Sam presses the button that makes the woman's voice repeats the same phrase.

This time, the girl answers, almost mechanically, "Kis Katona."

"What did you say to her?" Steve asks, looking at the tablet. The English translation side reads 'what is your name?'" Steve presses the button again, and the voice once again repeats the question.

"Kis Katona," the girl replies. 

"Keesh?" Steve asks, pointing at the girl. She stares back at him blankly. “Katona?” She gives him a faint and somehow begrudging nod. "Katona. Hi, Katona. My name is Steve." He points to himself. "Steve." He points to Sam. "Sam."

The girl, Katona, regards him with a blank face, no confusion or interest. Sam types 'my name is Sam' into the tablet and then presses the button a few times, until Katona finally nods once in response. He types again, then hands it to Steve. 

Steve presses the button so the woman's voice can announce in Hungarian that his name is Steve. After several repetitions, Katona gives another curt nod. She seems to understand, at least, even if she doesn't particularly care.

Steve passes the tablet back to Sam, who has the woman’s voice tell Katona that they are in New York City, in the United States of America, and that she will be safe now, and no one will harm her. Her blank-faced non-reaction could mean she doesn't understand, or that the translation was flawed, or that she simply lacks the capacity to care about her physical location. She looks away from both of them with unfocused eyes. 

"I feel like a kidnapper. The sooner we get her a better translator than the TalkyFish app, the better I'll feel about this whole situation," Sam admits. Steve nods. The sooner they have her in a secure location, the better _he'll_ feel about this whole situation. They still have to get her from the airport to Stark Tower, after all.

Luckily, Pepper once again proves that she's Stark's significantly better half by meeting them on the tarmac in an unobtrusive sedan with lightly tinted windows and Stark's chauffeur behind the wheel. Sam manages to get Katona unbuckled without unbundling her from the blankets, and Steve picks her up—she immediately goes rigid—and carries her off the plane, plank-stiff in his arms down the steps to the tarmac where Pepper is waiting. 

"Steve," Pepper says warmly. "It's so good to see you."

"You're a life saver, Ms. Potts," Steve says.

"You're at least seventy years my senior, Steve. 'Pepper' is fine," she says, smiling briefly at Steve before turning an even brighter smile on Katona, tapping the center stone of the brooch pinned to her lapel. As Pepper continues speaking, another voice comes from the pin, smoothly translating Pepper's words as she addresses Katona.

"You've had a long flight," Pepper says, and after a brief pause for the translation to catch up, Katona nods once. "You're hungry?" The question mark at the end is barely present, but Katona seems to respond positively – positively for her, anyway. Her single nod actually involves moving her head more than a half-inch.

"I know I'm starving," Sam says. Pepper's brooch translates for him as well, as Pepper takes Sam's hand, shaking it lightly. "Sam Wilson. It's an honor, ma'am."

Pepper huffs, shaking her head. "You two make me feel like I'm sixty, and possibly a prime minister of somewhere," she says. "Let’s not do that. It’s lovely to meet you, Sam. Shall we?" She gestures at the car. Stark's chauffeur gets out of the driver's seat and opens the rear door. “There’s a booster seat in the middle for— what’s your name, sweetheart?” Pepper asks, addressing Katona directly again. The girl doesn’t make eye contact. 

“Katona,” Steve says, and Pepper’s brooch immediately says, “Soldier.”

Steve looks over at Sam and sees that he’s frowning, too. “Does that translation program work both ways?” Steve asks Pepper, who nods. Steve looks down at the girl in his arms. “What is your name?”

Katona stares at Steve without blinking or responding . Steve looks at Sam, who shrugs and shakes his head. 

“No idea. I can try the tablet again,” Sam says. When Steve nods, Sam taps at his tablet, and the pleasant-voiced Hungarian woman repeats the phrase from the plane. Steve can vaguely hear Pepper’s brooch translating behind him.

“Kis Katona,” the girl says. 

The brooch says, “Little Soldier.”

“Sam,” Steve says, looking down at the child in his arms with a dawning sense of horror. “How good is that translation program?”

“Honestly, I just grabbed the first one that popped up,” Sam says. “Want to try comparing it to that one?” He tips his head in Pepper’s direction. Steve nods and looks at Pepper, who nods as well. 

"I’m typing in ‘what’s your name?’” Sam says. He holds the tablet closer to Pepper’s brooch and presses the button. The woman’s voice repeats the phrase. 

“How are you called?” the brooch says.

Before the brooch finishes translating, the girl immediately responds, “Kis Katona.”

“Little Soldier,” the brooch says. 

Steve frowns, gesturing at Pepper to turn off the brooch. She presses the center stone again.

“‘How are you called?’ isn’t the same question as ‘what’s your name?’” Steve says. 

“I should’ve known that app was trash. I don’t think that’s her name, man,” Sam says.“I think that’s her—”

“Call sign. Yeah,” Steve says. “Little Soldier.”

“Well, shit,” Sam says. “Guess that answers that question.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper is still better than your fave. Nobody goes in the ice. The care and feeding of child super-soldiers.

Once they get the girl into the sedan, Steve relaxes for a moment. Yes, they still have to make it to Stark Tower, but Steve would be completely shocked if the car weren’t fitted out with bulletproof glass and armored siding at a minimum, considering how Stark tends to err on the paranoid side of caution. 

The girl sits in the booster, an elevated plastic seat with a high padded back, without any sign of complaint or discomfort. The seat belt is woven through a notch in the side, so the belt hits in just the right spot across her chest. The booster makes the car seem even safer, somehow. 

The girl doesn't move, except for her eyes, which travel over the buildings and cars and people outside the window. As they pass a food cart with a couple dozen balloons tied to the handle, she smiles – it's brief, but it's there. Steve makes a mental note to buy her some balloons once they have her settled.

"Tony will be meeting us at the Tower," Pepper says, turning from the front passenger seat to speak to Steve directly. "I imagine you and Sam want to debrief, or at least bring him up to speed, so I can look after… Katona?" Pepper's faint frown mirrors what Steve is feeling. While the girl seems to answer to Katona, Steve isn't sure that continuing to call her by her presumably-Hydra codename is the best course of action.

"No offense, ma'am, but until we've assessed what possible threat the kid could pose, I don't feel comfortable leaving her in civilian hands, no matter how capable they may be," Steve says.

"I haven't exactly been spared the excitement or the action of the Avengers' line of work, but if you think Katona will do better with you or Sam present, I won't argue," Pepper says. She smiles, and once again, Steve finds himself wondering how Stark got this lucky. "For now, anyway."

"Oh, I like her," Sam says quietly. 

"She's good," Steve agrees. "Very good. Like I told Stark, she gets things done."

Sam nods and that's pretty much it for conversation until the reach Stark Tower, though the girl mutters quietly to herself a few times. Steve considers asking Pepper to turn the translation brooch on again, but then they're pulling into the gated parking garage. 

Stark's driver parks near an unmarked door, one that Steve knows from experience leads to an elevator up to Stark's penthouse and personal lab, as well as the other residential portions of the tower. Steve and Sam get out first. Sam stays on alert, watching the perimeter, while Steve unbuckles the girl. When he picks her up in her blanket bundle, she goes rigid again.

"Can you turn on the thing?" Steve asks, gesturing at Pepper's brooch. She nods and taps the center stone. Steve looks down at the girl. "Would you rather walk?"

The girl stares blankly back at him, even as the brooch translates. Steve sighs and kneels to set the girl down on her feet, unwinding the blankets. 

"Katona, can you walk with us?" Steve tries. This time, the girl nods once.

" _Igen_ ," she says, the translation quickly following: "Yes."

"Good," Steve says. "Don't attempt to run. This city isn't safe. You'll be safe here. Understand, Katona?"

As soon as the brooch translates, the girl nods again. " _Rendben_ ," she says. The brooch translates it to "okay" and the girl's eyebrows rise just barely. "Oh-kayh," she repeats. 

"That's good," Steve tells her. "We'll work on our Hungarian, too. Okay? _Rendben_?"

Pause for translation. "Oh-kayh."

Pepper swipes a card, then presses a thumb to a blue light, then types in a multi-digit code, before saying,"Pepper Potts and guests."

The elevator doors open, and J.A.R.V.I.S.'s crisp British voice says, "Welcome home, Ms. Potts. Greetings, Captain Rogers. Greetings, Senior Airman Wilson."

"Just Sam'll do," Sam says, peering into the elevator. He waits for Pepper and Steve, ushering the girl, to enter before he walks inside himself.

"Jarvis, this is the young lady we spoke about," Pepper says. "She is currently being addressed as Katona." She looks down at the girl. "Could we call you Kat?"

The brooch translates, but the translation makes the girl frown. " _Macska?_ "

The brooch repeats "Kat," but Steve frowns, his mouth twisting up as he thinks it over.

"Not 'cat' like 'meow'," Steve explains. The girl looks amused at the meow. "'Kat' short for 'Katona'."

The elevator doors close, and the elevator begins moving. The girl looks wild-eyed. Steve puts a hand on her shoulder.

"What do you say, Soldier? Kat?" Steve asks.

"Oh-kayh."

"Good," Steve says. "Kat. Nice to meet you."

"Oh-kayh," Kat repeats.

"This is a secure facility," Steve explains as the elevator continues to climb. "Safe."

"Sayf?" Kat repeats, before the translation has a chance to catch up. 

"Yes. Very safe," Steve says. "Very secure. Excellent tactical position." 

Kat narrows her eyes at Pepper, before glancing back at Steve, looking somewhat dubious. She speaks, the translation asking, "This woman's tall home is a secure facility?"

"Yes," Steve says. "Very secure."

Now Kat looks even more suspicious. "Will I be returned to the ice here?" she asks through the translation. Steve's hand tightens on her shoulder as he feels his throat constrict.

"No. No ice. We don't keep anyone in ice here," Steve says, sounding slightly strangled.

"No ice?" Kat asks via translation.

"No. Never," Steve says. “None of us—not me or Sam, not Pepper, not anybody else you’ll meet here—has ever put anyone in the ice. We don’t do that here.”

Kat narrows her eyes at Steve. “No ice, ever?”

“Never,” Steve says.

“For anyone?”

“Not for anyone,” Steve says. “Not you, not anybody else. We want to stop the people who put you in the ice. We don’t want them to ever put someone in the ice again.”

“ _Ez jó_ ,” Kat says, with a firm nod of her head. Steve doesn’t even need the translation, that it’s good. 

“I think so, too,” Steve says. 

The elevator stops, and J.A.R.V.I.S. announces, “He’s waiting in the study, Ms. Potts.” 

Kat glances up at the elevator’s ceiling, where J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice came from, with her eyebrows raised. She doesn’t ask any questions, though, and she follows Pepper out of the elevator, Steve’s hand still resting on her shoulder. 

“Jarvis, will you please take over Kat’s translation?” Pepper asks.

“Of course, Ms. Potts,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replies, immediately followed by a Hungarian translation in a slightly different voice. Pepper taps the brooch to turn it off. Sam, Steve, and Kat follow Pepper down a hallway and into a large library with a central fireplace, surrounded by low, comfortable-looking chairs. Stark is in one of them, drink in one hand and a small 3d schematic of what looks like a tank or an armored car projected in front of him. He looks up at Pepper and smiles, brushing the schematic aside—it disappears—before standing. 

“I thought you said you were getting take-out,” Stark says. “They don’t look like dim sum. Well, some of them look dim.”

“Tony!” Pepper says. She leans in and kisses his cheek. “This is Steve’s friend Sam, and this young lady is Kat.”

“Sam Wilson. EXO-7 Falcon,” Stark says. He extends his hand to Sam, who shakes it.

“Yes sir,” Sam says.

“They should’ve come to me with the design specs. Not nearly enough armor on the front, no failsafe if the wings detach.” Stark shakes his head with a sad-sounding sigh. “We’ll talk more later.” He turns to Steve. “No Romanov or Barton?”

“Argentina. They had a bead on a source,” Steve says. “Or a rumor of a bead on a source. I don’t even know at this point. We’re jumping at shadows. None of us really knows what we’re looking for.”

“Bucky Barnes,” Stark says.

“No. It’s not that,” Steve says.

“It’s not _just_ that,” Sam says. “If it was just that, I wouldn’t be jetting all over Europe with him. We’re after Hydra, plain and simple. When we find Barnes, _if_ we find Barnes…”

“Of course, I hope we find Bucky,” Steve says. “We need to bring him in, let him know he’ll be safe. He needs to know—”

“Nobody’s putting him back on ice,” Sam finishes. Steve smiles at Sam, who gets it, in a way he’s not sure Stark or anybody else, except maybe Natasha, gets it. 

Kat says something, bringing Steve’s attention to the fact that J.A.R.V.I.S. has been quietly translating the entire time. “No one goes into the ice here.”

“That’s right,” Steve says. “We’ll find him and we’ll bring him in. Until then, we have a more immediate issue, which is what we’re going to do with Kat.”

“My suggestion? Bathe her,” Stark says. “Feed her. What do child soldiers eat? Pepper, what do we feed kids?”

“I’ll have some food ordered up,” Pepper says. “And arrange for a bath.” Sam, Steve, and Stark all immediately take a half-step back. “Really, boys?”

“I’m not qualified to work with human children,” Stark says.

Steve scuffs his foot on the wood floor, feeling like a schmuck. “I’m not really sure I’d feel comfortable…”

“Uh-uh. Oldest of six,” Sam says. “I’ve done my time already.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll take the terribly dangerous _six-year-old_ to the bathroom and get her cleaned up.”

“You’re a saint,” Stark says. Pepper responds with a thin smile, putting her hand on Kat’s shoulder and gently steering her away from Steve.

“I bet you’d like to try a hamburger and fries,” Pepper says to Kat, J.A.R.V.I.S.’s translation following them down the hall. 

“Dodged a bullet there, huh?” Stark asks.

“She already bit him once,” Sam says, grinning in Steve’s direction. “Come to think of it, you up to date on your vaccinations? Do you even _need_ vaccinations? Does _she_ need them?”

Steve sighs. “We’d better dive back into those digital files and see if they have an answer for that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A water box, Kristianstad, lo mein, and a mini-me.

Stark has just enough time to load the data from Sam's flash drive before they hear loud, shrill shrieks from down the hall where Pepper and Kat went. Stark jumps to his feet, but Steve is already sprinting down the hall with Sam behind him. Steve finds the bathroom, a large tiled room with a glass shower the size of Steve's old apartment with Bucky.

There's no blood, and while Pepper seems flustered, she's uninjured. Kat, however, is backed into the far corner of the shower, screaming. J.A.R.V.I.S. helpfully translates, "No ice! You said no ice!"

"It's not ice, Kat. It's a shower. Water comes out, warm water," Pepper says, reaching for the knob.

"No! No!" Kat screams. 

"Look, when I turn this—"

Kat bares her teeth and lunges at Pepper's arm, coming up short when Steve shouts, "Katona!"

Kat freezes, her lips curled into a snarl. Steve can see she's been stripped down to filthy underwear, only slightly darker than her equally dirty skin. She seems torn between defending herself from Pepper and the shower knob and obeying what she seems to have decided is Steve's role of authority.

"It's not ice," Steve says slowly, letting J.A.R.V.I.S. have a moment to translate before he continues. "I promised you. This is a shower. It's for getting clean. Ms. Potts wants to help you wash."

Kat starts talking rapidly. "No! It is a trick! You will use the hose and return me to the ice!"

"It's not a trick. It's just a wash," Steve says. 

"The hose is before the ice. I know this!" Kat says.

"No hose," Steve says, gesturing at Pepper to turn on the shower. Water begins to gently fall from a large disk in the ceiling above the shower.

"It's warm," Pepper says. She puts her hand under the water. "See? It's like warm rain." 

Kat doesn’t move, so Steve puts his hand in the water, too. “It’s warm water,” he says. “Nobody here is going to hurt you. There’s no hose. There’s no ice.”

After watching Steve’s hand for at least a minute, Kat tentatively puts her hand under the water. “It is warm,” she declares almost immediately.

“Yes. It’s nice,” Steve says. “No hose. Nothing cold at all.”

“This tall-house woman’s water box is warm.”

“Her name is Ms. Potts. Pepper,” Steve says. He notices the the voice translation program still says Pepper as ‘Pepper’, which is good, after the cat mix-up. Kat still looks wary, keeping to the shower's wall, but she doesn't start shrieking again. 

"Can I wash the dirt off of you now, sweetheart?" Pepper asks.

"I need my dirt," Kat says.

"Your hair's caked with mud. That can't feel very nice," Pepper says. She hold up a bottle of shampoo. "This smells like strawberries. You'll like it."

"No. I need my dirt. I need it to hide."

Sam hums quietly. Steve turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Camouflage," Sam suggests. "You think she got loose, dirtied herself up to hide, maybe?"

"Makes sense," Steve says. "If she were being held in another facility, it could explain why we didn't find any paperwork on her."

"They could've just been holding her for transport back," Sam says.

"Steve? Should I keep trying?" Pepper asks.

Steve looks at the girl. The one hand she'd briefly held under the water is now a different color from the rest of her skin. If they're going to try to find her parents, they'll need to know things like hair color and identifying marks, not to mention that he's not sure how long he can ask Pepper to let Kat stay in the tower if she continues smelling like the Bronx Zoo.

"Katona?" Steve says. Kat looks at him. "Let Pepper wash you. That's an order, soldier."

Kat keeps her face composed, clearly not happy with the order, but she nods. Steve can see her bracing herself as she steps under the shower head. The water sluicing off her is brown by the time it reaches the drain.

Pepper pours some shampoo into her hands and starts scrubbing Kat's hair, while Kat stands there, wooden and miserable-looking. Satisfied that she won't give Pepper anymore trouble, at least, Steve waves Sam out of the bathroom. Stark is in the doorway glaring, but Steve waves him off, too.

"Are you all set in here, ma'am?" Steve asks Pepper.

Pepper nods. Her hands are both in Kat's hair, the shampoo foam mixing with chunky mud. 

"We're fine. Have Jarvis tell you where I put the underwear and the pajamas. I think the Hulk ones should fit," Pepper says.

"You bought her Hulk pajamas?" Steve asks. "They _sell_ Hulk pajamas?"

"Thor and Iron Man, too," Pepper says. She looks over her shoulder and smiles. "And Captain America."

"No Black Widow?" Steve asks, not sure whether to be more offended on his own behalf or Nat's.

"Oh, they tried. Clint, too, though he was just on a Heroes of New York shirt. The first time Nat heard about the merchandising, Stark Industries' legal team had to step in and threaten a suit," Pepper says.

"Because otherwise Nat was going to take them out herself?"

"That was the concern, yes," Pepper says. "Okay, Kat. Close your eyes and lean your head back so we can rinse the rest of that mud out."

Kat obediently tips her head. Pepper continues scrubbing the girl's scalp until the water runs clear. Steve takes that opportunity to step out of the bathroom, letting J.A.R.V.I.S. direct him to a room with a large stack of children's clothing, much of it depicting one or more of the Avengers. Finding the Hulk pajamas is easy enough, though Steve winces a little at the idea of Banner running into a cartoon drawing of his own distorted, green face in some kid's t-shirt.

Figuring out the sizing on the underwear is more difficult, since he isn't sure how the number corresponds to Kat's size, even after trying to make sense of the chart on the back. The number sizing suggests it might be age related, but his estimate of Kat's weight and waist circumference matches none of the number sizes exactly. He settles on some that appear to be big enough. They have a white cartoon cat with no mouth and a red bow, which he's seen on other little girls' shirts. 

By the time Steve gets back to the bathroom, Kat is out of the shower, wrapped in two oversized towels: one around her head and one around her shoulders, tucked in at the neck like the blankets on the plane. She looks calm, more or less, and without the dirt on her face, is noticeably too thin, her cheeks hollow in a way that makes Steve's heart hurt at the familiarity. Healthy children may be thin or lanky–even Bucky had a brief string bean stage at around twelve–but they don't look hollow or have shadows under their eyes like Kat does. Steve spent most of his life looking like that.

"Now we'll get pajamas on and I'll brush your hair," Pepper says. Kat's eyebrows rise as soon as that part is translated.

"Yes. I like this," Kat says. Her lips purse, like she's considering smiling. 

"I think we're fine here, if you want to continue looking at the files with Tony and Sam," Pepper says. 

"You're sure?"

"Oh, I think hair-brushing will be a lot more enjoyable than that shower," Pepper says. She raises her eyebrows and barely tips her head in the direction of the door.

Steve nods his agreement and heads for the study. Sam and Stark are already elbow deep—literally—in the files from the Prague base. Stark appears to be manipulating a floor plan while Sam touches various locations in the plan, those areas lighting up as he goes.

"Here and here," Sam says. "Probably another one there."

"What about—" Stark spins the floorplan clockwise, tapping a few spots.

"Maybe if it were above sea level, but I think they'd have a flooding issue."

"Heavy-duty pumps?" Stark suggests.

Sam nods. "Yeah. In that case, could be."

"What are we looking at here?" Steve asks. "Is that the Hydra base in Prague?"

"An almost identical one in Kristianstad, Sweden," Sam says. "The specs on Prague had at least one hidden data vault. We totally missed it."

"Back door, too," Stark says. "Could explain why the Prague site was mostly empty."

"Kristianstad's our next target?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, I think it should be," Sam says.

"Wilson and I are looking for the vault and the back door," Stark explains. "I'm not saying it's a smart idea to take a second crack at Prague, but if you can find the data vault in Kristianstad—"

"It might answer some of the same questions," Steve says. "Yeah. Sweden, then. Find that back door. We can catch a few hours, head out first thing in the morning."

"What about the kid?" Sam asks. "Maybe we work on one step at a time. She might have information for us, if we can get her a little more deprogrammed."

Steve frowns. "Or we miss what little jump we have on these guys."

"If they went out the back door in Prague, Kristianstad may already know, in which case, better _not_ to show up right now when they're expecting us," Sam says. He jabs his finger into one more spot in the floor plan, which makes the image flicker slightly, then add a narrow hallway with long spiral staircase to the spot Sam jabbed.

"Ohh, this one's smart. Definitely keeping this one," Stark says, as much to himself as to Steve or Sam. He puts one hand around the staircase, swiping the rest of the image away. 

“So we should give them all the time they need to destroy or move all the files?” Steve asks. “How is this a plan?”

"How is dumping your kid on me and Pepper a plan, exactly?" Stark counters.

"She's not my kid, and I'm not dump—"

"Your food is here, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupts Steve. "Shall I send it up? Ms. Potts seems otherwise occupied."

"Sure, Jarvis. Send it on up," Stark says. "Everybody'll be in a better state of mind after – what was it, Jarvis?"

"Chinese, sir, from Golden Forest. Ms. Potts ordered mu shu pork, moo goo gai pan, Mongolian beef, firecracker shrimp, and an assortment of soups and appetizers."

"There. Something for everyone," Stark says.

"She order any lo mein?" Sam asks.

"Yes sir. House lo mein, which contains chicken, pork, and shrimp."

"Thanks, Jarvis," Sam says. "Man, this place is great. Steve, why didn't you bring us up here sooner."

"He knew my father, and he's not the biggest fan of me," Stark says.

"Those two facts aren't related," Steve says.

"Sure they are," Stark insists. "I knew my father, too."

"Did I hear Jarvis saying dinner was on the way up?" Pepper asks, walking back into the study with Kat's hand in hers. Now that Kat’s hair is clean, it falls to about shoulder-length, choppily cut, dark red and slightly curly. 

"I thought you said Romanov was in Argentina," Stark says.

“Wow. Yeah, wait ‘til Nat gets a look at her mini-me,” Sam says. “She’ll get such a kick out of it.”

Steve nods, even though something doesn’t quite sit right with him. Kat _does_ resemble Natasha, maybe a little too much for a joke to be funny. The hair is the same color and texture, and the kid’s pursed-lip glare looks like Nat’s I’ve-about-had-it-with-you-people face. Her chin is different than Nat’s, which gives Steve a strong feeling of relief that at least human cloning is one thing about the future he still hasn’t had to deal with. 

“What do you think, Kat?” Sam asks. “You like Chinese?”

As soon as J.A.R.V.I.S. translates, Kat nods slowly. “Yes. Lo mein.”

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. “That’s it, Steve. The kid’s got good taste. We’re keeping her.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fistful of fried rice. Tony Stark: Not so bad a guy. Real Legos. An unauthorized presence.

They all sit in the chairs by the fireplace, eating Chinese take-out off paper plates Pepper seems to produce out of thin air. Everything gets passed around and shared until the carton of lo mein makes it to Kat, who holds it to her chest with both hands and glares at Sam when he reaches for it.

“I take it back,” Sam says. “We’re not keeping her. She’s a lo mein thief. Let’s give her to Barton.”

“Here. Try this.” Pepper reaches across the coffee table to hand Sam a container of some kind of dumpling with sauce. 

“Maybe Pepper and I are running away together,” Sam says.

“I’ve got a suit I’ve been saving for exactly this scenario,” Stark says. Pepper smacks his arm. 

“You have a suit to keep me from leaving you?” Pepper asks.

Stark laughs. “No, I have a suit specifically to keep you from leaving me for Wilson,” he says. “I’d seen pictures. I wouldn’t leave _you_ for Wilson, but if I were you, I’d totally leave _me_ for him. _I’d_ leave me for Wilson.”

Pepper laughs and swats at him again, which Stark blocks with his chopsticks. Sam preens, patting the side of his head like one of the starlets from the pictures Bucky used to drag Steve out to, on the premise of yet another double date with yet another pair of girls. Steve laughs at Sam, though, because this is one of those rare times when memories like that just feel perfect and golden instead of painful.

Steve looks over at Kat to see if maybe she's followed any of the exchange and found humor in it, if so. Despite everyone else eating, Kat hasn't so much as stuck a chopstick into the contain of lo mein. She looks back at Steve like she's expecting him to say or do something.

"Do you need help with your lo mein?" Steve asks. After a pause for translation, Kat shakes her head. "Did you want something else instead?" This time, she doesn't respond, even after the translation. "Why aren't you eating?"

Kat stares at him, slowly looking more and more confused, her little red eyebrows drawing together. "I am permitted?"

"We gave you the food, Kat. It's okay to eat it," Steve says.

"I am permitted to eat now?"

"Kat, sweetheart, it's fine. You can eat any time you're hungry," Pepper says. Kat doesn't so much as glance in Pepper direction. 

"Yes, you're permitted to eat now," Steve says, trying to keep the sick feeling in his gut off his face. "If one of us hands you food, it means you're permitted to eat it, as much as you want. If we leave food where you can get it, you’re permitted to eat it. If you don't feel hungry or don't want to eat, you don't have to. Do you understand?"

Kat nods vigorously this time and promptly dives into her carton of lo mein with a deftness with chopsticks that Steve still hasn't been able to master. Steve exchanges a look with Sam, who frowns as he nods, and then they all resume conversation about Stark's suit's many anti-Wilson features. Sam and Pepper both end up laughing so hard they can barely breathe, and Steve feels just a little bit more at peace in the company of allies.

As conversation winds down, Steve notices that Kat has finished the entire carton of lo mein and has somehow managed to swipe Sam's plate and the container next to it, which means she's also put away a significant amount of the moo goo gai pan and at least one or two dumplings. She looks up at Steve from where she's eying the last firecracker shrimp on Steve's plate and gives him the first real smile he's seen her give.

"That small fish is very hot," Kat says, nodding at the shrimp.

"It's a shrimp," Steve says. He waits for J.A.R.V.I.S. to translate, and for Kat to say the word in both Hungarian and English, before continuing, "But yes, it's very spicy."

"It is good." Kat looks down at the shrimp again.

"Do you want it?" Steve asks. When Kat looks immediately suspicious, he says, "It's permitted. Take anything you want. Everyone else seems to be done."

Kat smiles again. Her hand darts out to grab the shrimp, which she pops into her mouth in one bite. Steve nods his approval and turns back to Pepper, who's asking Sam about their sleeping arrangement plans.

“I’m good to crash anywhere,” Sam says. “Couch, floor, you name it.”

“Like I’d let any of you sleep on the floor,” Pepper says. 

"I’m sorry. We shouldn't have assumed you'd have the space for us," Steve says.

"Of course you should!" Pepper says. "You’re not sleeping on the floor, because we have beds for all of you. There's plenty of room, isn't there, Tony?"

"You don't sleepwalk, do you?" Stark asks. 

"Tony!" Pepper says.

"I meant to say, yes, of course, plenty of space for your lovely non-traditional family of Pepper-abductors and death waifs," Stark says.

"Thank you. I really appreciate all of this," Steve says. "Neither of you owes me anything, especially in—"

"Stop!" Stark says, holding up a hand. "I forgot to mention my one rule for house guests. What's my one rule for house guests, Pepper?"

"I'm not even trying to answer that," Pepper says, turning her attention to opening a fortune cookie.

"My one rule for house guests is that no one's allowed to get maudlin unless I'm mixing the drinks," Stark says. "We don't have to be besties. I know which side you're on when the shit hits the fan, and I hope you can say the same for me."

Steve nods. “Still means a lot.”

“Anyway, Pepper likes you,” Stark says, with an exaggerated shrug. “So there’s gotta be something there worth putting up with for a couple of nights. Pepper has excellent taste.”

“Questionable taste, maybe,” Sam says. He gives Pepper a smug-looking little smile and a wink, which reminds Steve that it’s probable that he’s once again ended up the less attractive, less charming friend in the friendship. 

“Watch it, Wilson. I was planning on building you something pretty, but if you’d rather walk than fly—”

Sam cuts Stark off with a, “Did I say questionable? What I meant to say was _impeccable_. Pepper has impeccable taste.”

Steve and Pepper share a look that Steve is pretty sure means “how did we end up saddled with this couple of grandstanders?” while Sam and Stark go back and forth a few more times. Apparently it’s finally established that Stark will build Sam new wings if Wilson will put in writing his promise not to be more charming than Stark—thus wooing Pepper away from him—which means they’re able to start gathering up the trash from their meal. Kat has curled up in the chair and appears to be sound asleep, a fact that’s confirmed when even prying her hand open to remove a tightly-clenched fistful of fried rice doesn’t cause her to stir.

“I think she still has a bite of something in there,” Sam says, pointing to Kat’s cheek, which does look a little rounder. 

“If you want to go in after it, be my guest,” Steve says. “She’s already bitten me once.”

“She’ll probably be fine,” Sam says.

“If you’ll bring her, I’ll show you where the three of you can stay,” Pepper says in a low voice. “It’s a few floors down.”

Steve nods silently, picking up Kat, who’s limp as a ragdoll. With Sam behind him, Steve follows Pepper to the elevator. They ride three floors down. When the elevator opens and Steve steps out, he feels like he’s stepped back in time.

“It looks like apartments,” Steve says quietly, repositioning Kat in his arms. “Like the building Bucky’s family lived in when we were kids.”

“The other Avengers’ floors are more open, but Tony and I thought you’d like something a little cozier and more familiar,” Pepper says. 

“This is something else,” Sam says. 

“There are four apartment on this level, each with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. You and Sam can share, each claim your own, whatever you’d like. It’s all yours, so do whatever you want to make it feel like home,” Pepper says. “They’re all fully furnished. Some of the furniture belonged to Howard, some of it came from the Strategic Scientific Reserve offices when they were folded into S.H.I.E.L.D., and the rest is reproduction. We hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

“Pepper, it’s amazing,” Steve says. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll let me know which one you choose, so I can buy things for Kat,” Pepper says. “I doubt she cares much about French Art Deco.”

“My Little Pony, _Frozen_ , and something called a La-La-Loopsie ,” Sam says. 

Steve raises his eyebrows. “That was a quick response.”

“Man, I have seven nieces, all age eight and younger,” Sam says. “I know from little girl toys. Legos, too. Don’t get the pink Lego Friends kind. Get the real ones.”

“Real Legos. Got it,” Steve says.

“I had the beds made up in all four apartments. They’re unlocked, keys on the kitchen counters, so please take your time. Let Jarvis know if you need anything,” Pepper says. She smiles down at Kat sleeping in Steve’s arms one more time before turning back to the elevator.

“Pepper?” Steve calls after her. Pepper stops and turns. “Thank you, and please tell him thanks for me, too.”

“He knows,” Pepper says. “Goodnight, Steve.” She steps into the elevator and the doors close behind her. Steve stands in the hallway for a few seconds, listening to the elevator traveling back up.

“Steve?” Sam says.

“Sorry. Yeah. I’ll take the closest one for now. She’s heavier than she looks,” Steve says. “If we need to rearrange, we can worry about it tomorrow.”

“You get her settled,” Sam says. “I’m going to look through the other apartments.” He doesn’t say it’s a perimeter check, but that’s what it is, and Steve relaxes a little, knowing Sam’s on it. 

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve says.

“You can repay me by letting me have first pick of the apartments,” Sam says, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to find this kid a bed before my arms fall off.”

Steve carries Kat into the first apartment on the left. Even the interior layout reminds him of Bucky’s parents’ place, though it’s nearly twice as big. The color scheme is a little earthier—Bucky’s Ma never met a color she didn’t like—but it still feels homey in a way that Steve has never quite managed with his places in D.C. The art hanging on the walls also looks familiar. Steve almost drops Kat when he realize it’s because at least half of it is _his_ art: sketches from his time performing as Captain America that Steve is sure had at one time been a part of the Smithsonian exhibit, a portrait of Steve's and his mom’s landlord’s daughter that had gotten a couple bucks knocked off the rent one month, and on the wall in the master bedroom, a watercolor of Bucky and his kid sister that Steve couldn’t have been older than twelve when he painted. 

Steve sets Kat on the bed in the smaller bedroom next to the master, pulling a quilt up over her. He leaves the door open to the hall and the hall light on, just in case, then wanders back through the apartment, looking at his drawings and the furniture. The smell is different from the old Brooklyn apartments, at least, crisp and clean instead of the faint odor of rotting wood and boiled potatoes. Knowing Pepper, the kitchen is probably much better stocked than either Steve's or Bucky’s ever was. 

Sam raps lightly on the door before opening it and leaning in. “You get her settled?”

“Yeah. You find a place you like, or did you want to check out the rooms here?” Steve asks. 

“Kinda like the one right across the hall,” Sam says, “but if you think you’ll need a hand with her, I’m fine here.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I think we’ll be fine. Stark Tower has better security than the Triskelion.”

“Just checking. Shoot me a text if you need anything. I think I’m going to crash.”

"Thanks, Sam," Steve says.

"Oh, found this out in the hallway, by the way. Figured you'd want it," Sam says, setting Steve's shield down inside the door.

"Yes. Thank you."

"No problem," Sam says. "G'night."

"Night," Steve replies. He locks the door behind Sam and flips off the lights in the living room, picking up the shield as he shuffles back to the master bedroom. After a quick shower—the bathroom, of course, has all the necessary toiletries, including a fresh razor—Steve pulls on a pair of suspiciously well-fitting sweatpants and a t-shirt before climbing into bed.

He's been asleep maybe two, two-and-half hours when J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice startles him awake.

"Sorry to alarm you, Captain Rogers, but there is an intruder in young Kat's room."

Steve bolts to his feet. "Who?"

"Unable to find a facial match, Captain."

Steve grabs the shield and runs into the hallway, pushing open the door to Kat's room, which had somehow swung closed. The room is empty except for Kat, sitting up in bed, looking only half awake.

"Jarvis! Status report!" Steve calls out.

"The intruder has somehow exited the premises. I suspect my security protocols have been overridden. I will notify Ms. Potts at once, Captain."

"Do that," Steve says. He checks Kat's closet and under her bed while she watches him sleepily, confirming they're the only two people in the room. "Kat, are you okay? _Rendben_?"

Kat rubs her eyes as she nods. "Oh-kayh."

"Did you see someone in here who shouldn't have been here?" Steve asks, the translation coming quickly. Kat shakes her head. "Jarvis?"

"Intrusion confirmed, Captain. An unauthorized presence was noted in the elevator shaft and on the fifth floor."

"Kat, if someone was in here, we need to know," Steve says. "We thought this facility was secure, so we need to find out what went wrong."

"Yes," Kat says.

"Yes, someone was here?" Steve asks.

"Yes."

Steve frowns. "But not someone who shouldn't be?"

"No," Kat agrees.

"Do you know who they are?" Steve asks. Kat nods. "Who was it?"

"My friend," Kat says. " _A tél katonája_."

The translation doesn't immediately follow, and Steve says, "Hey! Jarvis. Is that a name? Can you translate that?"

"I'm very sorry, Captain. I was told by Ms. Potts to notify her, sir, and Senior Airman Wilson immediately if that phrase were used on the premises."

"What phrase?" Steve asks, feeling his stomach starting to knot up. " _Tél katonája_. What does it mean?"

J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn't immediately respond. Steve can hear his phone buzzing in the master bedroom and the sound of someone banging on the apartment door.

"Jarvis!"

"My apologies, Captain Rogers. It means 'The Winter Soldier'."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hungarian release of _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ was called _Amerika Kapitány: A tél katonája_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Froot Loops with Hawkeye. Everybody loves Natasha.

Steve sits on the end of Kat's bed staring at her, the pounding on the apartment door faintly echoing. _My friend_ , she called him. The Winter Soldier. Bucky. My friend.

"Jarvis, can you unlock the door for Sam?" Steve asks.

"Yes, Captain. Senior Airman Wilson is quite insistent."

"Let him in. It's fine." Steve puts his hand on top of Kat's. He expects her to flinch, but she doesn't. "He's my friend, too," he tells her.

Kat's smile is like the sun. "My friend can visit again?" she asks.

"Yes. We'll figure it out, but he can visit. As long as you're safe, he can visit," Steve tells her. She's still beaming at him when Sam comes to the doorway, leaning on the frame.

"Was he here?" Sam asks. It's come to this, that Sam doesn't even have to say the name.

"She knows him," Steve says. "He's her friend."

"Maybe," Sam says.

"She _knows_ him," Steve repeats.

"But does he know her?" Sam asks. "Was he here to take her? Or to keep her from talking?"

"Or to check on her," Steve insists. "She isn't afraid of him. He's her friend."

"He was your friend, too," Sam says, pointedly looking at Steve's side, where Bucky's bullet went through him, where four of his ribs were shattered into pulp.

"He didn't hurt her," Steve says.

"He is my friend," Kat pipes up. "I assist."

"You assist?" Sam asks. "Did you go on missions together?"

Kat nods, still smiling, though her smile is clearly directed at Steve. "I assist my friend on his missions. I am a good soldier. I am proficient."

"I know you are," Steve says, patting Kat's hand again.

"I am reliable," Kat continues. "I am a valuable asset, like my friend."

"Yes, you are," Steve says, even though his guts twist up, thinking about Bucky forced to go on Hydra's missions, and Kat made to go with him, both of them in so much danger and neither of them in control.

"Can you tell me about your missions with the Winter Soldier?" Sam asks. Kat's smile abruptly vanishes, replaced by a blank, stony expression.

"This is classified," Kat says.

"It's okay. It’s _rendben_ , Kat," Steve says. "You don't have to tell us about the missions. You're a good soldier. A valuable asset."

Kat relaxes. She blinks her eyes sleepily. "May I sleep?"

"Is it okay if I move you to my room?" Steve asks. "If your friend comes back, I want to talk to him. I miss him."

"You are really his friend?" Kat asks.

"Yes. Since we were small, almost your age," Steve says. "He is my dearest friend."

Kat nods. "Yes. I will go."

"Can I carry you?" Steve asks, holding out his arms.

"Yes. It is good." Kat pulls the blankets off her legs, sitting very still waiting for Steve to pick her up. Steve scoops her up and carries her into his room, setting her in the middle of the bed. She immediately burrows under the covers that Steve had shoved aside when he leapt out of bed, and before Steve can flip the light off, she’s asleep.

“Steve—” Sam begins, but Steve puts his finger to his lips in a _shh_ gesture. Sam nods, and Steve partially closes the bedroom door before they walk into the living room.

“Have you talked to Stark or Pepper?” Steve asks.

“Briefly. Told Pepper I’d talk to you while she and Stark try to figure out how Kat’s ‘friend’ managed to get through the security protocols,” Sam says, shaking his. “What the hell, man? What was he doing in here? How did he even know we had her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was in Prague. He could’ve seen us take her,” Steve says. 

“Why didn’t he do something in Prague, then? Why come back here?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think he was trying to hurt Kat, and she obviously thinks of him as a friend.”

“Yeah, we’ve talked about this. So do you, and look at what happened with that,” Sam says. “Just because she’s worked with him a few times, that doesn’t even guarantee he remembers her, or that he remembers her fondly.”

“He had enough time to hurt her, if that was what he was after,” Steve points out.

“Maybe the goal was _take_ , not _hurt_ ,” Sam says.

“I still don’t think he’s working for Hydra, Sam. I think he’s broken free,” Steve says. “Maybe he was just checking on her.”

“Look, we can talk about maybes all night, but that’s not going to solve the problem of him showing up in the most secure apartment in New York City.”

“I know, I know,” Steve says. “We can’t do much about it tonight, though, can we?”

“I’m gonna get Pepper on the horn and see what she and Stark have figured out,” Sam says. 

“Can you keep an ear out for Kat?” Steve asks. “I’m going to check the rest of the floor, see what I see.”

Sam nods, and Steve slips back to Kat’s bedroom to grab his shield while Sam asks J.A.R.V.I.S. to connect him to Pepper. They’re already going over possible entry points and whether or not Stark should be out there circling the building in his Iron Man suit as Steve salutes Sam and walks out of the apartment. He clears each additional apartment, taking his time while checking the ceilings, inside cabinets, air vents, but finding nothing to indicate Bucky has been in any of them or that there’s any way other than the front door to get in and out of any of the apartments. 

“Jarvis, status report,” Steve says.

“Yes, Captain Rogers. Senior Airman Wilson and Ms. Potts have locked down floors one through ten, posted additional security personnel at the entrance to the private levels, and have sealed the elevators shaft below them. Additional scans of the building confirm that the Winter Soldier is no longer on the premises.”

“Thanks, Jarvis. Let Pepper and Stark know that I appreciate it,” Steve says. “Tell Pepper I’m sorry my work followed me home.”

“Very well, Captain Rogers.”

When Steve gets back into his new apartment, Sam is still on the line with Pepper, nodding as she finishes explaining something about biometric locks. Steve waits for Pepper to stop talking before he says anything.

“Floor’s secure,” Steve says. “It had to be the elevator.”

“That’s what we think, too. Tony found a loose panel on the outside of the tower, right around the fifth floor. We think he came up the outside wall and then entered the building into the elevator shaft, bypassing security,” Pepper explains. “We sealed off the—”

“Elevator, yeah. Jarvis told me,” Steve says. 

“Anything else we can do tonight?” Sam asks. 

Steve shakes his head. “Get some sleep and go over everything again in the morning, is my suggestion.”

“I agree,” Pepper says. “Jarvis will alert me if you need anything or if there’s any breach.”

“Thanks, Pepper,” Steve says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam says. “I’m planning to crash in here for the rest of the night.”

“That’s a good idea. Goodnight, boys,” Pepper says. The line closes, leaving Steve and Sam standing in silence for a couple of minutes. 

“You want the couch or Kat’s room?” Steve finally, beginning to walk towards his room.

“You kidding me, Rogers?” Sam asks. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’ll be sleeping on your floor.”

“Sam—”

“No. You don’t get to Captain America me out of trying to watch your back. This is what we do, right?” Sam asks.

“Yes,” Steve has to concede. “It’s what we do. Bed’s big enough, though, you could—” He pushes his bedroom door open, to find that Kat has starfished herself across a good three-fifths of the bed. “Or we could both sleep on the floor.”

“She takes up a lot of bed for somebody that small,” Sam says.

“I’ve been accused of the same thing,” Steve says. “Not recently, obviously, but before.”

“Well, I’ve slept in closer quarters,” Sam says, gently pushing Kat’s right arm and leg more towards the center and lying down on top of the blankets with his back to her. Steve nods and does the same on Kat’s other side, making sure his shield is within easy reach. He falls asleep more easily than he expects to.

Steve wakes up to sunlight coming in through the bedroom window. He reaches over to pat Kat, but the space between him and Sam is empty. Steve immediately sits upright.

“Sam! Where’s Kat?”

Sam sits up, too, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. “She can’t have gotten out. Jarvis would’ve said something.”

“Kat!” Steve calls out. “Jarvis, where’s Kat?”

“Young Kat is in the kitchen, Captain Rogers.”

“Is she alone?”

“No, sir.”

“Shit,” Steve says, jumping to his feet and sprinting out of the bedroom the to kitchen, Sam not far behind. “Kat!”

He hears a small giggle as he rounds the corner into the kitchen, where he finds Kat sitting on the counter, eating obnoxiously-rainbow-colored cereal directly out of the box, swinging her legs and giggling at Clint Barton, who is seated on the counter next to her, eating from his own box of cereal.

“Good Lord, Kat, you scared us!” Steve says. 

Barton leans over and whispers something to Kat, who giggles again as she crams a large handful of the cereal into her mouth.

“Morning, Cap, Sam,” Barton says, J.A.R.V.I.S. quietly translating into Hungarian.

“Barton,” Steve says, reaching for Barton’s hand and shaking it. He pulls it back covered in sticky, multi-colored crumbs, which he tries to surreptitiously wipe off on his sweat pants while Sam shakes Barton’s hand. 

Kat holds a handful of cereal out in Steve’s direction. “Do you want it?”

Steve shakes his head. “No thank you, Kat.”

“These colorful circles are good,” Kat declares, holding her hand out in Sam’s direction now. Sam also shakes his head.

“Me and Froot Loops don’t get along so great,” Sam says. 

“ _Ez jó_ ,” Kat says, seemingly more to herself than Steve—since J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn’t bother to translate—shrugging and shoving the cereal into her mouth. Clint says something else to Kat, which J.A.R.V.I.S. also doesn’t translate, despite it sounding like Hungarian.

“Jarvis, is the translator broken or something?” Steve asks.

“No, Captain Rogers. Translation is continuing as requested.”

“Any reason why you’re not translating Barton’s Hungarian, then?”

“Mr. Barton has requested I not translate his Hungarian, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says. “Shall I continue honoring that request, Mr. Barton.”

“Yup,” Barton says, grinning at Steve. “ _Köszönöm_ , Jarvis.”

“ _Szívesen_ , Mr. Barton.”

“I didn’t even know you spoke Hungarian,” Steve says.

“We had a job in Budapest, Tasha and me,” Barton says. “Six, almost seven years ago. We both picked it up pretty fast. Tasha more than me, but that’s ‘cause she was there longer.”

Steve and Sam exchange a look, then both of them look at Kat, who seems to have reached the bottom of her box of cereal. She peers inside, frowning, then hits Barton on his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“I need your cereal,” Kat tells him, and Barton says something back, trading boxes with Kat. She pulls out a handful of cereal from the new box and resumes happily swinging her legs and grinning at Steve. “I like my friend Cleent,” she tells him. J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn’t correct Barton’s name in the translation. 

“We need your friend Cleent for a minute,” Steve says. “Barton?” He nods his head towards the living room. Barton says something else to Kat that makes her laugh, then he swipes a marshmallow from the cereal in her hand before hopping off the counter and following Steve and Sam into the other room.

“Did Stark bring you up to speed on what’s going on?” Sam asks, once they’ve all found a seat on the furniture that, though it looks like the furniture from Steve’s time, is about ten times more comfortable.

“Prague. The kid. Kristianstad.” Clint pauses. “Barnes.”

“What about Nat?” Steve asks.

“She’s up with Tony now. You know my eyes start glazing over when he talks for more than ten minutes straight. I got the summarized version.”

“She coming down after?” Sam asks. Barton does the little side-to-side head bobble that means he’s not any better at predicting Natasha’s behavior than anybody else. 

“Maybe, maybe not. Tasha’s not wild about kids,” Barton says. “Speaking of which, did you notice how much the kid looks like—”

“Yeah,” Steve says. 

“Oh yes,” Sam says. “A whole hell of a lot like her.”

Barton frowns. “You’re sure it’s not some kind of—”

“Chin’s different,” Steve says. 

“Nose, too,” Sam says, waving his hand at his own nose. “Natasha’s does that kind of—”

“At the end, yeah,” Barton says. “It’s close though.”

“Could just be the hair,” Steve says. “Maybe we can’t see past the hair.”

“I’ve seen Tasha with all kinds of hair colors. It’s not the hair, it’s the eyes,” Barton says.

Sam nods. “It _is_ the eyes,” he says.

“Okay, dammit, none of this is relevant right now!” Steve says. “Let’s focus. Kristianstad.”

“ _Barnes_ ,” Sam says firmly. “No point in going to Sweden if Barnes is in New York.” Steve starts to protest that Bucky isn’t the only reason they’re going after Hydra, but Sam raises his hand. “I know what you’re gonna say, Steve, and yeah, I know that, but either way, he’s the situation at hand, and we’ve got to get him figured out first.”

“Fine. What do we do about this? Wait and see if he comes back for Kat?” Steve asks. 

“It’s not the worst plan,” Barton says.

“Yes, it is,” Steve says. “If Bucky really is after her for— we can’t use her for bait. She’s just a kid.”

“A kid super soldier,” Barton says.

“We don’t know that,” Steve says. “We know she’s been trained, we know she’s been on missions, but we don’t have any proof that she’s had anything else done to her.”

“She eats like a super soldier,” Sam says.

“Not helping, Sam!” 

“I’m just saying, I know kids, and I’ve never seen one eat a full box of cereal before,” Sam says.

“Cleent!” Kat yells from the kitchen, rattling off something else in Hungarian. Barton starts laughing before J.A.R.V.I.S. has a chance to translate.

“Two boxes of cereal,” Barton says. “You _still_ think she’s not like you?”

“We don’t know that she’s like me. We don’t know that Bucky’s like me. We don’t know that anybody’s been able to replicate anything like Erskine’s serum, let alone used it on a kid,” Steve says. “And look at her. She’s tiny, even for a little kid. She looks more like me before than now.”

“So maybe she’s not exactly like you,” Sam says. “Maybe she’s more like Barnes, or maybe it’s something else altogether.”

“But whatever she is, she’s also a child, and I’m not putting her in danger. Not even for Bucky,” Steve says.

“Hey, Kat!” Barton suddenly shouts. Kat appears in the doorway, an apple in one hand and two slices of bread—all with at least one large bite out of them—in the other.

“I am permitted!” Kat says. “Food I can reach! I can reach this food!”

“It’s not about the food,” Steve says gently, at the same time Barton is saying something to her in Hungarian. 

Kat nods at Barton, then glances at Steve and nods again. She walks over to Barton, cupping her hands to her mouth as she leans close to his ear. Barton’s hand flashes quickly to his hearing aid, possibly turning up the volume, and after Kat tells him whatever she’s telling him, he brings his hand to his ear again. 

“She says she’s not in any danger from her friend,” Barton says. “She says you should let her sleep in the room again, and to unblock the elevator.”

“She knows about the elevator?” Steve asks.

Kat nods. “The ceiling man tells me of this,” she says. “The tall-house woman says this. The Pepper woman.”

“We didn’t tell Jarvis not to translate,” Steve says, putting his hand over his face. 

“I wish to see my friend,” Kat says. “I wish him to come here. I will give him the circles and the spicy shrimp-fish. He can sleep on my floor. It is a nice floor.”

“Maybe one thing at a time, Kat,” Steve says.

“We should talk to Stark and Pepper about it, at least,” Sam says. “Nat, too.”

Barton leans towards Kat and says something to her. She smiles and nods back.

“Kat says she’d like to meet our friend Natasha,” Barton says.

“This might be a very bad idea,” Steve says.

Sam nods. “Probably, but I don’t know what other option we have here. Maybe nobody mentions the hair and eyes thing, alright?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat is equipped with the jeggings and the hoodie.

They drink several cups of coffee apiece, including Kat, who watches how Barton fixes his coffee—black, enough sugar to stand a spoon in—and promptly requests hers the same way. Steve has a vague notion that kids aren’t supposed to have coffee nowadays, but he’s not about to start telling her she’s not permitted to have something in the kitchen. He almost second guesses this decision when he notices Kat has snuck the sugar bowl into her lap and is eating out of it with Barton’s coffee spoon. Still, she seems happy and could probably use the calories, so he lets her keep on.

"You think we should keep waiting for Nat?" Sam asks. "It's been a while."

"Either she's climbing through the elevator shaft herself to see what Jarvis missed or Pepper's requisitioned her for something," Barton says. 

"More pajama problems, maybe," Steve says.

"Pajama problems?" Barton asks.

"Her picture on pajamas," Steve says, "like Kat has Hulk."

"What is Hulk?" Kat asks, fishing around on the tabletop without looking at her hand until she touches Sam's coffee cup, which she slides to the table's edge and then tumps over into the sugar bowl.

"The picture on your pajamas. That's our friend, the Hulk," Steve says.

"He is a green man," Kat says. "He is a picture."

"Yeah, he's green, and that is a drawing of him, but he's real, just like we are," Steve explains. "He has some special…" He trails off, looking at Barton for a suggestion.

"Abilities. Special abilities," Barton says, then repeats it—or Steve assumes that's what he's saying—in Hungarian. Kat nods, stirring the coffee into her sugar bowl, then spooning up a mouthful of wet, tan-colored sugar.

"He is proficient?" Kat asks.

"Very," Steve says.

"Good. I like this green man on my clothing," Kat says.

"Pepper has other clothes for you, too, I think," Steve says.

Sam nods. "Yeah, I'm sure she mentioned that. Shirts, sweaters, stuff like that."

"I think there's something called a jegging," Steve says. "Is that right? Jegging?"

"Man, ain't nothing right about jeggings," Sam says."Probably cute on the kid, though."

"Tasha has jeggings," Barton says.

"Well, people who look like Nat can wear jeggings, but that's not making any kind of statement about the wearability for the general—"

"Kat, let's see about the jeggings, huh?" Steve says, cutting Sam off before he and Barton get into it about Nat… again.

"I will be equipped with the jeggings?" Kat asks, setting down the now-decidedly-empty sugar bowl. 

"Seems like a possibility," Steve says, standing up and motioning for Kat to follow him back to her room. She does, walking down the hall beside Steve with uncanny silence, not even a swish of her feet on the floor. 

Steve opens a dresser drawer in Kat's room, marveling again at how Pepper managed to get appropriately-sized clothing into the dresser. He picks up a t-shirt with a picture of Iron Man on it, and shows it to Kat.

"Do you like this one?" 

Kat frowns at the shirt, leaning close. "Who is this man?"

"That's Iron Man, but really it's Stark," Steve says. "Tony. You met him last night."

"The man with the Pepper woman," Kat says. Steve smiles a little at the description. 

"Yes. That's him. Do you want to wear this shirt?"

"I want to wear the shirt with the Pepper woman," Kat says.

"Well, not sure they make those, though they probably should," Steve says. "Maybe you could try one with Thor. I bet we’ve got a Thor shirt in here." He moves shirts around, looking for something with Thor on it, until Kat's arm snakes by him, snatching a shirt from the drawer.

"This," Kat says.

"Aw, Kat, no, you don't want that one," Steve says, reaching for the blue shirt in Kat's arms. She clutches it tightly to her chest and spins away elegantly enough to make even Nat proud. 

"This," Kat insists.

"Come on, kid. Cut me a little slack here," Steve says. "Don't make me take you out there with that on."

" _This_!" Kat repeats, baring her teeth at Steve this time. 

"Fine," Steve says. Short of wrestling the shirt away from Kat, he can't see a way to dissuade her. Instead, he paws through another drawer, finding a pair of stretchy denim pants. "Hey, look! Jeggings."

Kat accepts the jeggings, then promptly begins removing her pajamas. Steve turns to the dresser, finding a pair of warm socks and a hooded sweater that he assumes are meant to go with the t-shirt. When he turns back to Kat, she's dressed in the t-shirt and jeggings. 

“Here you go, Kat,” Steve says, handing her the socks. She looks more excited about the socks than a kid has a right to, pulling them on so the cuffs of her jeggings are tucked into them.

“They are the same,” Kat says, wiggling her toes in the socks as she smiles down at her feet.

“Yeah, I figured the best thing to do is just get this whole outfit out of the way,” Steve says. 

“Also that?” Kat asks, pointing at the hoodie. “I like this jacket.”

“Yeah. The hoodie matches, too,” Steve says. “Definitely have to thank Pepper for this.”

Kat puts on the hoodie, pulling the hood up over her head, so she’s peeking out the eyeholes cut into it. Steve sighs. 

“Captain Rogers?” J.A.R.V.I.S. suddenly asks. “Ms. Potts and Ms. Romanov have requested your presence in the upper-level conference room.”

“Tell them we’ll be up in a few minutes,” Steve says. He looks down at Kat, currently staring at her hooded self in the mirror with an expression that's half thrilled, half mystified. "You ready, Kat?"

"Yes, I am ready for my knives now," Kat says, still preening in the mirror.

"Huh? Knives?" is all Steve manages at first. Kat doesn't seem to notice his confusion.

"I am equipped with the jeggings and the hoodie," Kat says – both 'jeggings' and 'hoodie' are in English. "I am ready for my knives."

"No, Kat. There's no knives," Steve says.

"Does this mission require firearms?" Kat asks. 

"It's not— Kat, it's just a meeting, not a mission, and no meeting is going to require knives or guns, or any weapon," Steve says.

"I must be armed for full proficiency," Kat says, frowning now and adopting the rigid posture that Steve thinks means she's nervous or confused.

"Not here. You're a child. Children don't need weapons," Steve tries to explain, but Kat just goes even more still, her face slackening.

"I am proficient. I am a useful asset. I can perform—"

"Kat, it's _rendben_. We know you're proficient." Steve puts his hand on Kat's shoulder; she hisses and bites it, clamping her teeth on the meaty part of Steve's palm, right below his thumb. He manages to not yell or snatch his hand away, since that would probably spook her more.

"You alright back there?" Sam shouts from the front of the apartment.

"We're fine!" Steve calls back, then he drops to one knee in front of Kat, his hand still clenched between her teeth, and speaks in a hushed voice. "Kat, kiddo, you've gotta let go my hand now. Everything's fine."

Kat glares at Steve and sinks her teeth in deeper. With the hood still drawn over her head, and her eyes peering out the holes in the stylized 'mask', she looks like a particularly pissed off Natasha playing dress up.

"Let go of my hand, soldier," Steve says, more firmly this time. Kat unlocks her jaw, allowing Steve to pull his hand away. "Thank you."

Kat begins to look panicky. "Don't return—"

"No ice," Steve says. "I promised. I don't lie to other soldiers."

Kat stares at Steve for a moment before nodding. "Can I have a metal plate?" she asks.

"A plate? You mean my shield?" Steve asks. "You want a shield like mine?"

"So I am properly equipped," Kat says.

"I don't have one your size, but I'll see what Tony and Pepper can do, alright?"

Kat nods again. "Yes. It is good."

Barton pops his head around the doorframe of Kat's room. "We copacetic? Because if we're late, I'm telling Tasha it was alllll you."

"Thanks, pal," Steve says. "Yeah, we're good."

Kat placidly follows Steve and Barton up to the living room, and Steve doesn't bother to lock up when they leave. Good neighborhood, and he should at least try to remember to demonstrate the trust he has in his team mates, especially since none of them said a word about Kat's outfit. 

Barton whistles on the elevator ride up, and Steve has a little chuckle at Kat's fascinated look and subsequent attempts to imitate the noise. They mostly result in her spitting all over the back of Sam's t-shirt.

"Nice," Sam says.

"We'll work on it," Barton says, then says something in Hungarian to Kat, who smiles.

"Cleent sings with air," Kat says. 

J.A.R.V.I.S. announces their arrival on the correct floor. As they exit the elevator, Steve realizes they've naturally fallen into position, with him at the front, Sam and Barton to either side, and Kat between them, body twisting to cover the rear.

"Good formation, Kat," Steve says.

"I am a proficient asset," Kat replies, sounding dismissive. 

When they reach the conference room, Stark, Pepper, and Natasha are already there, seated at the table with both paper and projected schematics. Their conversation is loud and animated enough that nobody really looks up at Steve and company until Barton flops into the seat next to Nat.

"Is everyone up to speed?" Nat asks Barton, nodding her head at Steve and Sam, and giving Kat an amused glance.

"No, no, no," Stark says. "Before we talk shop, we're taking a minute to admire Cap Junior, here."

"She picked it out herself," Steve says.

"And people say _I'm_ the ego-maniac?" Stark shakes his head as he points at Kat’s outfit, which, okay, yeah, is comprised of jeggings, a Captain America t-shirt, a Captain America hoodie, and a pair of Captain America socks, made to look like Steve’s shield, with little white stars on their blue toes. 

“Can it, Stark,” Steve says. “I didn’t do Kat’s shopping for her. I’m pretty sure Pepper did, and Kat likes it, so that’s enough.”

“I require a shield,” Kat says to Stark. “I am already equipped with the jeggings and the hoodie.”

“I told her we’d see about the shield, because she wanted K-N-I-V-E-S or G-U-N-S,” Steve says. J.A.R.V.I.S. thankfully doesn’t seem to translate the spelled-out words, because Kat looks confused.

“What is kayn-eye-vees?” Kat asks. 

"Don't worry about it," Steve says.

"Can we focus here?" Nat asks, lifting her head and really looking at Steve for the first time. "We have bigger issues at hand here than—"

Nat stops abruptly, staring in Kat's direction. When Steve glances down at Kat, he sees that she's pushed back the fake–Captain America hood, staring intently back at Natasha.

"Who is this woman?" Kat asks.

"Kat, this is my good friend Natasha," Steve says. Nat's face is ghost white; she seems unable to tear her eyes away from Kat. "Nat, this is my friend Katona. We call her Kat."

" _Katona_ means soldier," Nat says softly. "That's not a name."

"We call her Kat," Steve repeats.

“Pepper said you found her in Prague. Why is she speaking Hungarian?” Nat asks. She continues staring at Kat, who stares right back. Unfortunately, the stare-down only makes the resemblance between the two of them stronger. Barton clears his throat loudly and mutters something under his breath to Kat, so she stops staring at Nat and grins at him instead. 

“We think she might’ve been in another Hydra facility and escaped,” Sam says finally, after enough time passes that it’s obvious nobody else is going to answer. Sam’s good like that. 

Nat looks down finally, whatever she was thinking or feeling abruptly cut off. “I hope you’ve figured out who to hand her off to. We don’t have time for fooling around with kids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is Kat's hoodie](http://images.fun.com/products/20740/1-2/juvy-captain-america-costume-hoodie.jpg). 
> 
> Also actualfax Bucky in the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have lost contact with the primary asset. Neutralize the peripheral asset.

Nat’s curt dismissal of Kat heralds a return of the loud conversation between herself and Tony, with occasional input from Pepper, and Steve tries to catch up while simultaneously keeping an eye on Kat, who stands at parade rest near the end of the table, watching Natasha. Kat’s body language suggests she’s reassessed who is in charge and has come up with Nat as the answer. After a few minutes, Barton sits down on the floor next to her; he’s not considerably shorter sitting than Kat is standing. 

Another few minutes pass, and Barton says something in Hungarian. Kat nods. Barton says something else, and this time Kat frowns and replies quietly enough that J.A.R.V.I.S. either doesn't notice or decides she needs privacy, because there's no immediate translation. When Barton speak for a third time, Kat relaxes—at least visibly—and drops onto the floor next to him in an identical pose, elbows resting on her knees with studied casualness.

 _OK?_ Steve signs at Barton. He's still way behind Nat and Pepper on signs, but making sure Barton knows he's an integral part of the team is worth the old-man-hearing-loss jokes Stark aims at Steve. Steve suspects Barton's in on that joke anyway, since he's noticed Barton sign something at Stark that ends with a gesture that looks like demonstrating the top corners and the sides of a pillar. Steve looked it up on the internet. It means 'elder'.

 _OK_ , Barton signs back, nodding faintly. Kat studies him for a moment and then copies the sign.

" _Rendben,_ " she says. “Okay.”

Barton smiles and fist bumps her. Steve is certain she didn't know the sign _or_ the gesture before this morning, and she’s already lost the accent off the ‘okay’. 

"Steve," Nat says sharply. Steve gets the feeling that it's not the first time she's said it. 

"Yeah," Steve says, sitting up straighter. "What was it?"

"Twenty-four or forty-eight?" Nat asks.

"I'm sorry. Are we talking about hours?" Steve asks.

Natasha makes a noise of disgust and rolls her eyes. "Did you need to be excused?"

"Sorry. Just a little distracted."

"By your kid. Yeah," Nat says.

Steve frowns. "She's not—"

"Can we please all agree," Stark interrupts, addressing the room at large, "that when we say 'Cap's kid' we mean the one he found and is currently providing a semblance of guardianship over, and not a child he fathered himself and abandoned in Budapest?" 

The room at large choruses a loud 'yes', drowning out Steve's "hey!" of protest and distracting everyone—almost; Steve notices—from the expression of white-hot rage that flashes so briefly across Natasha's face.

"There. We agreed," Stark says. He turns back to the diagrams and schematics and continues his loud discussion with Nat, which Steve now realizes he is _way_ behind on and it might be difficult to catch up, maybe impossibly so. Steve sighs and tries to concentrate on what Stark is saying. 

After a few minutes, Kat suddenly pipes up, pointing at one of the schematics, “ _Bejárat._ ” J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn’t translate, so they all look at Barton, whose brow is furrowed as he also looks at the schematic. 

“ _Egy bejárat? Hol?_ ” Barton asks Kat. 

“ _Ott,_ ” Kat says, pointing at more vigorously at the schematic. When nobody moves, she walks up to the table and jabs her finger at a small spot. “ _A bejárat._ ”

Stark zooms in on the schematic. “What are we looking at here? Jarvis? What’s wrong with your translation program?”

“Sir, Mr. Barton has requested that I cease translating during this meeting.”

“Since when is Barton the boss of you?” Stark asks. 

“His rationale seemed sound, sir. He speaks Hungarian, as do Miss Kat and Ms. Romanoff, and they seem capable of communicating well without the ‘crutch’ of the translation, as Mr. Barton refers to it,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says. “He also makes a compelling argument for a goal of bilinguality of all parties involved.”

“There’s an entrance,” Barton says. “That spot where Kat is pointing. You wanted a way in? She found you one.”

"Okay. The kid found the entrance," Stark says.

"That she did," Nat concedes begrudgingly. "Can we discuss who's going and who isn't?"

"I think Steve needs to stay," Sam says. Steve is about to protest, but Sam cuts him off. "Talk to the kid. She trusts you. She's got information we need. You can sit this one out if it means you'll come up with intel we can't get anywhere else."

Steve bites back his immediate response, forcing himself to take a few calming breaths. "Stark? Nat? Barton? Do you all agree with Sam's assessment?"

"The kid does seem fond of you," Stark says, gesturing at Kat's outfit.

"You're staying," Nat says. "Your head isn't in the right place. Sam and Clint are coming with me."

Sam nods, and Barton gives Steve a look that's not quite apologetic before nodding, too. The Avengers work best when they're democratic, so Steve doesn't argue. 

"Get what you can from Kat and send us the intel," Sam says. "Odds are good that Barnes is still Stateside, anyway."

"It's not about him," Steve says, a token protest.

"Talk to Kat," Sam says. "I think she might have a lot to say."

“Fine,” Steve says, “but I want to know exactly who’s going where and doing what, so Nat, why don’t you use what Kat showed us and start over from the beginning.”

Everybody else groans, but then Nat launches right back into her mission brief, adjusted for the entrance Kat pointed out. Kat sits quietly, without offering any additional input, for the full two hours it takes for Nat to run through everything and issue assignments. By then, it’s past noon, so Pepper orders up some food for the rest of them before heading out to some Stark Industries–related business lunch. Kat eats a footlong sub, five bags of chips, and approximately half her bodyweight in brownies while Tony and Nat, who hadn’t witnessed breakfast, watch in amazement. 

After lunch, Nat stalks out of the briefing room without a backwards glance, and Sam gives Steve an apologetic-looking shrug before hurrying after her. Barton lingers behind, waiting for Steve, who’s waiting for Kat to finish picking through everyone else’s bags of chips for any leftovers. 

“I should be going with you,” Steve says. Barton shrugs his shoulders, arms crossed as they watch Kat tip up a mostly-empty bag, dumping the last handful of Cheetos into her open mouth. She looks like baby bird.

“Tasha knows her shit,” Barton says. 

“Something about this isn’t sitting right with her, and it bothers me that she won’t say it,” Steve points out. Barton barely nods his head.

“It’s not the job. It’s the kid,” Barton says. “Something about the kid’s got her spooked.”

Steve nods his agreement. “How much time did you say she spend in Budapest, that time you were both there?”

“Come on, Cap. We don’t really want to have this conversation.”

“Maybe we need to,” Steve says. 

“Maybe you should just leave it,” Barton counters.

“If there’s something she knows, or something she isn’t telling us, and there’s a chance it might compromise this mission—”

“And if whatever idea you’ve got in your head about Nat and the kid is even a little bit true?” Barton asks. “You’re telling me that forcing that conversation _isn’t_ going to compromise the mission?”

Kat holds up her hands, her fingertips covered in Cheetos dust. “Narancssárga.”

“Yeah, orange,” Barton says. 

“Orandj?”

“Orange,” Barton repeats. “Your fingers are orange.”

“Orange,” Kat says. “Fing-ers.”

Barton nods and signs _OK_. “Alright. I’d better catch up with Tasha and Sam, before they leave without me.”

“Thanks for this, Barton,” Steve says. 

“You can thank me by giving Tasha the choice of whether or not she talks about Budapest or the kid. If she wants to talk, you won’t _have_ to ask her.”

Steve nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

With a quick sign at Kat, too fast for Steve to catch, Barton heads out of the conference room, leaving Steve and Kat alone. Kat offers Steve the heel end of another sub sandwich—it looks like Nat’s chicken parm, which she’d barely touched—and when Steve shakes his head, crams half of it into her mouth, this time looking less baby bird, more python at the Bronx zoo unhinging its jaw to swallow a whole rabbit. 

“You want to go back up to the apartment?” Steve asks. Kat looks at him blankly, and he realizes J.A.R.V.I.S. hasn’t resumed translation now that Barton is gone. He points to himself and then to Kat, then back towards the elevator. “You and me. Apartment?”

Kat either understands or plays along beautifully, because she nods and follows Steve to the elevator, remains of Nat’s sandwich still in hand. The elevator music plays quietly as they ride back to their floor. Exiting the elevator, Kat takes a more tactical position, standing slightly behind and to the left of Steve, letting him open the apartment door and enter before slipping inside herself and shutting the door.

“So…” Steve begins awkwardly. Kat stands by door, chewing the last bite of sandwich, staring at Steve, who stares right back at her, suddenly not sure how to proceed. “Uh, Jarvis? Can you turn the translation back on? 

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says. “Shall I give Miss Kat a moment between translations, for the sake of learning?” 

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” Steve says. 

“Very good, Captain.”

“Do you want to sit down?” Steve asks Kat, gesturing at the couch and the chair in the living room. After half a beat for J.A.R.V.I.S. to translate, Kat nods, walking to the chair and perching the edge of the seat, her posture stiff and formal. Her fingers are still orange from the Cheetos, and she keeps her hands carefully positioned on her knees so her fingertips don’t touch her jeggings. “You can go wash your hands first, if you want.”

Kat doesn’t move, other than her eyes, which dart around as she studies Steve’s face. Steve sighs and stands up, gesturing for Kat to stand, too.

“Come on. We’ll get you washed up,” he says. Kat follows him towards the bathroom at the end of the hall, where he leads her through washing the Cheetos dust off her hands. “There. Not orange anymore.”

“Not orange fingers,” Kat says in English, holding up her wet, but clean, hands. 

“That’s right. That’s _jó_ , Kat. You’re learning really fast,” Steve says. He hands her a towel to dry her hands. 

“Cleent _mondja_ —say—‘more words, Kat’,” Kat says. “Also hand words.”

“Signs. Yeah. You’re picking that up really fast, too” Steve says. He walks back into the living room, Kat behind him, and they both take their seats again. “So, that was really helpful with the schematics.” Kat nods, but says nothing, stiffly seated again and watching him. “Is there more you can tell us?” Kat doesn’t respond right away this time, hesitating first, then giving a small nod. “It’s safe here, Kat. I promise.”

Kat mutters something in Hungarian that J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn’t translate, then says, louder, in English, “Safe. Secure facility.”

“That’s right. It’s a secure facility.”

“My friend can still get in,” Kat says, J.A.R.V.I.S. quickly translating. 

“He’s a special case, I guess. Hard to keep out,” Steve says, smiling slightly. “He was like that when we were kids, too.”

Kat tilts her head to the side, like a confused little bird. “Everyone here says ‘kid’ very much. What is ‘kids’?”

Steve says “kids” again, making sure J.A.R.V.I.S. translates, but Kat doesn’t look any less puzzled. “Children. Not adults.”

Kat continues staring at him with her head tilted, blinking slowly.

“Small people. Like you,” Steve says. “People that aren’t big yet.”

“I am small,” Kat agrees. “You are large.”

“Right, but I’m an adult,” Steve tries to explain. “I’m all the way grown. I’m not getting any bigger. You’re still growing. You’re a kid. A child. Not grown yet.”

“I am small and I will be larger.”

“Yeah, that’s part of it,” Steve says. “Older, too, though. Kids aren’t just small adults. They’re not, uh… done yet?”

“I am a proficient asset. My proficiency will increase with my size,” Kat says. “‘Kid’ is a low rank?”

“Sort of,” Steve says. 

“I do not have a rank,” Kat says smugly. “I am an asset. I have value, not rank.”

“Here, in New York, you wouldn’t be allowed to live on your own. You’d have to live with an adult. You’d have to have a guardian. Kids need adults to take care of them. Kids can’t rent apartments or get jobs.”

“I have many jobs. I complete many missions.”

“Yeah, Kat, I know. I’m just trying to explain what—” Steve breaks off with a loud sigh. “You know what? We won’t worry about that. I wanted to ask you about Budapest.”

Kat’s smug look goes blank. “This is classified.”

“We’re trying to find out more about your friend, about the Winter Soldier,” Steve says.

“This is classified.”

Steve sighs again. “You’re in my chain of command now, soldier. Remember?" Steve says firmly. Kat nods curtly. “You were stationed in Budapest before Prague, correct?”

Kat nods again.

“But you escaped?” Steve prompts. “You ran away from the base in Budapest. You used camouflage, the mud, to hide from them.”

Kat nods one more time. 

“Did you know where you were going when you left?” Kat shakes her head. “Why did you leave?”

“I had to find my friend,” Kat says. 

“Did you know what happened to him?” Steve asks.

“I had to find my friend,” Kat repeats.

“But you heard something. That’s what made you leave Budapest to begin with,” Steve suggests gently. Kat hesitates for a moment, then nods. 

“‘The primary asset is AWOL’,” Kat says, in oddly accented, but otherwise perfect, English. “‘Repeat, the primary asset is AWOL. We have lost contact with the primary asset’.”

“Someone at the Budapest base said that. Your handlers.”

Kat continues in Hungarian this time, translated via J.A.R.V.I.S., “‘Neutralize the peripheral asset. Place in cryostorage until the primary asset is recovered’.”

“Oh, Kat,” Steve says. “I would’ve run, too. You did the right thing. You went to look for your friend.”

“I could not find him. I looked for many, many weeks. I checked all the rendezvous points, but he was not there. I followed the protocol, but still, he was not there. I was found and brought to the other facility,” Kat says. “There were no handlers there, only scientists. They have inferior facilities. They put me into the cell and they provide no food. I am there for ten times of sleeping, and then my friend comes.”

“That’s why the base was mostly empty,” Steve says, and Kat nods.

“Yes. He takes the bad two, the ones who hit me and use the _zzzt_ ,” Kat says, gesturing like she’s stabbing or poking someone and making a noise that sounds like arcing electricity. Steve winces. “Then he is gone and you are there, and now I am your asset and I am permitted to eat the food that I can reach.” 

“Why did he let us take you with us?” Steve asks. “Why let us take you, but follow us?”

Kat stares blankly at Steve, not answering this time. Steve sighs and leans back against the couch cushions while Kat continues to sit on the verge edge of the chair with her back straight. They sit like that for a while, neither of them talking. 

“You want to watch some TV?” Steve asks her finally. Kat looks suspicious, but Steve finds what looks like the correct remote and presses what he thinks is probably the right button, turning on the television. Kat stares at it, transfixed, as Steve switches through dozens of channels, finally coming to one with cartoons. “You should watch some cartoons for a little while. Sit on the sofa. It’s more comfortable.”

Kat stands and walks from the chair to the sofa, sitting down next to Steve, still with the rigid posture. Steve makes a point of sprawling out a little more, propping his feet up on the coffee table, which he wouldn’t usually do, in a show of how relaxed he is. After a few minutes, Kat’s stiff spine relaxes and she sprawls a bit, too, resting her heels on the table as well. After another ten minutes, Kat has become so transfixed by the TV that Steve feels comfortable getting up and leaving her in there to watch alone for a while.

“Jarvis?” Steve says quietly, once he’s stepped into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. 

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Let me know if Kat leaves the sofa. Or seems upset. Or does anything other than watch TV.”

“Yes, Captain. Will you be leaving the premises?”

“I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute,” Steve says. He pushes the bedroom door open, kicking off his shoes just inside the room, then he lies down on the bed, letting his eyes close. He has enough time to fall asleep, but not to dream.

Steve feels weight on his chest, something constricting his breathing like a memory of the time before the serum and the war and the ice, before he processes the press of cold metal to his windpipe or J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice. He opens his eyes, unsurprised to see Kat crouching on him with a butter knife in her hand. Her feet are both planted high on Steve’s rib cage, small toes digging into his skin through his shirt to keep her balance. She could shift her weight forward and jam the butter knife into Steve’s throat with barely an effort, before he could act or even shout. Behind Kat, Bucky stands at the foot of the bed, his expression neutral. 

“Hi, Kat,” Steve says, carefully not moving. Kat doesn’t respond. Her eyes are blank, lacking any recognition.

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky says. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says. “It’s good to see you, too.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is the slowest super solder in Stark Tower.

“Your toes are kind of sharp, Kat,” Steve says to Kat, who doesn’t move or even blink in response. 

“She doesn’t hear you,” Bucky says. While his face remains neutral, the tone of his voice sounds slightly amused. 

“I’m still going to talk to her like she’s a person,” Steve says. 

“She’s not a person. Not right now,” Bucky says.

“She’s still a person,” Steve insists. “I’m going to talk to her like she’s a person.”

Bucky lets out a snort and looks like he’s barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “You’re a _stubborn_ idiot,” he says.

Steve can’t nod, not with Kat pressing a butter knife to his throat, but he gives Bucky a grin. “Yeah, that’s me, a stubborn idiot. So… how have you been, Buck?”

Bucky murmurs something, Russian, by the sound of it, and Kat sits back on her heels, her toes relaxing their hold on Steve's chest. She blinks slowly, looking down at Steve in confusion as her eyes start to clear. Her hand goes slack and the butter knife tumbles out of it onto the bed.

"Hiya, Kat," Steve says in a soft voice. "Everything _rendben_?"

Kat nods. "Yes," she says in English. "My friend is here."

"Yeah, I see him. Everything's fine in here," Steve says. J.A.R.V.I.S. translates; Kat nods her understanding. “You want to go watch some more cartoons?”

Kat shoots a look over to Bucky, whose nod is nearly too faint to notice. “Yes, I go,” Kat says, grinning widely at Steve before hopping down off his chest and scurrying out the door. He hears the television set turn on shortly after. 

Once he's sure Kat is gone, settled in front of the television, Steve sits up, moving slowly for Bucky's sake. Bucky doesn't move from his position at the foot of the bed—admittedly the best tactical one—but continues watching Steve with a look of slightly detached amusement.

"Did you come here for Kat?" Steve asks, when he's fully upright. 

"She likes it here. She told me a lot." Bucky actually smiles then. "About food, mostly."

"Well, yeah, she was hungry. She said they kept her for ten days without feeding her, so she's got time to make up for," Steve says.

"She needs a lot of food," Bucky says.

“She’s a kid. Growing, I guess," Steve says. The look on Bucky's face suggests otherwise. "What? Why else does she need it?"

"She's like me," Bucky says. 

"An asset."

"Yes. An asset like me," Bucky says. "Like you. Almost. Couldn't ever get it quite right."

"Are you telling me they really did make Kat into a child super soldier?" Steve asks, feeling his stomach turn over at the idea.

"She's not a child," Bucky says firmly.

"Of course she is," Steve insists.

"No. You confuse her for a child because she looks like one, just like you confuse me for your friend because I look like him. We're not. We're just assets." When Bucky stops talking, he looks away from Steve, off into some distance Steve can't see.

"No. She's still a child, under it all," Steve says. "She's somebody's kid."

"She's mine," Bucky says. Steve's eyes widen as his mouth drops open.

"She's yours?" Steve asks. " _Your_ kid?"

"Yes. I found her. I brought her in," Bucky says. "I trained her. She's mine."

Steve exhales some bit of his surprise. "She's yours because you took her for Hydra. Okay. How did you find her?"

"I took her from the Widow. My handler was pleased. I was allowed to train her," Bucky says. His tone sounds fond.

"From the Wi— Natasha? She was _Natasha's_ baby?" Steve asks, all the tension and shock rushing back.

"The Widow didn't want her. She was leaving her for the state. I recognized the value of such a potential asset. I took her."

"But how?" Steve asks. "When was she— how did you know? How could you?"

"The Widow was in deep cover. She was looking for someone. She didn't know it was me she was looking for, but I knew it was her. I saw her. I watched her for many months and saw how deep her cover went," Bucky says. His tone becomes neutral, mechanical even, as he recounts the events as he must have recounted them for his handler. "I waited for her labor to begin, then I eliminated my target. He was dead before the Widow's baby came. I set small explosives around the city. The Widow fled the hospital in the chaos, leaving the new asset. I took the new asset."

"She was going to come back," Steve says.

"No. Her cover was blown. Her mission was compromised. The target was neutralized. She returned with the archer to S.H.I.E.L.D. I kept the new asset."

"The _baby_ , Buck. Natasha's baby." Steve's voice shakes with barely-contained anger. "If she left her in the hospital, it had to be for a reason. She probably wanted to keep her safe. Maybe she wanted her far away from all of this." Steve makes a gesture that manages to encompass himself and Bucky and all of Stark Tower. 

Bucky shrugs. "Maybe the reason was so she could become an asset. A Widow would want this for her daughter. She couldn't go to the Red Room, but she could still become an asset."

"But she's a child, Buck," Steve says.

“No. She looks like a child,” Bucky says. “She’s an asset. She could have killed you in your sleep. She would have, if I’d told her to.”

“We can help her. We can show her how to be a normal kid.”

"No, you can’t. She’s accompanied me on many missions in Central Europe," Bucky says. "She provides cover. She has eliminated targets." He smiles fondly again. "She’s a peripheral asset now, but she’ll be better than me, if you keep up her training."

"What? No!" Steve says. He leaps to his feet, Bucky immediately assuming a defensive position, flesh hand fluttering around the handle of the knife at his waist.

"She can help you." Bucky's smile widens, even as he holds the defensive position, and when he continues, he sounds like every old memory Steve has of him, the Brooklyn coming through just a little. "She's a wiz with a knife, pal. Just you watch her and see."

"Jesus, Buck," Steve sighs. "I can't train her. She's not an asset here. She's just a kid! What am I supposed to do? Give her a suit so she can suit up with the rest of the Avengers?"

"I think you already did, Stevie."

"She picked that outfit out herself!" Steve snaps, coming up short when he realizes Bucky had started to chuckle.

"She's like you," Bucky says.

"Yeah. Another super soldier. Great."

Bucky shakes his head. "Not like that. She's—" He mutters something in Russian, then something in German that Steve almost recognizes. His eyes light up, and he continues, "Scrappy. She’s scrappy. Doesn't back down from a fight, even if the other guy's twice her size."

"That’s what I’m like, huh?" Steve asks. “Scrappy?”

Bucky’s brow furrows as he nods. "Yeah. I didn't always— most of the time, even, I didn't know you. Didn't remember your name or how I'd met you, usually didn't remember your face, but that? That I always remembered, some little guy, some stubborn idiot who didn't ever back down, even if the other guy was twice his size."

"Guess I never did know what was good for me," Steve says, letting himself smile gently.

Bucky nods. "She's small, but she'll fight 'till she drops.” 

“She doesn’t have to, though,” Steve says. “I don’t want her to have to. We won’t use her or put her in danger. She doesn’t have to be an asset here.”

“She doesn’t know anything else.”

“We can teach her, then. You and me,” Steve says. 

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t know anything else, either. Not anymore.”

“But you remember things you didn’t before. You’re more _here_ now.”

“Not enough,” Bucky says, still shaking his head. He starts to move towards the bedroom door, not turning his back to Steve. 

“Stay,” Steve asks softly. “Kat’s happy that you’re here. I’m happy. We can figure this all out. We can help both of you.”

“I don’t need your help,” Bucky replies, voice rough, any trace of the Brooklyn accent gone now. “I don’t want it. I left you the _kis katona_. What else do you want from me?”

“I want you to say,” Steve pleads. He reaches one hand out in Bucky’s direction. Bucky’s hands flash at his sides, and then both are holding knives. 

“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.”

“You do, Buck,” Steve says. “You do. That’s how you knew you could leave Kat with us.”

Bucky shakes his head sharply. “No. No, it was tactical. It was a tactical choice. You’re somebody else’s memory.”

“Please stay. Please help me with her.” Steve takes another step towards Bucky. Bucky’s metal arm swings forward, the blade in his hand cutting a deep slash across Steve’s forearm. Steve glances down at the cut for only a half a heartbeat, but when he looks up, Bucky is gone. “Bucky?” Steve hurries into the hall, other hand clamped over his bleeding forearm. “Buck?” 

Bucky isn’t in the hall or the back bedroom or bathroom. He’s not in the kitchen or in the living room, where Kat is sprawled on the couch with a box of Saltines and a now-mostly-empty pack of pre-sliced cheese. 

“Kat, did Bucky— did your friend come through here?” Steve asks Kat. She looks up at him, the expression on her face unreadable. The show she’s watching on the television is reflected in her eyes, shifting bright colors. 

“Your arm makes bleed,” Kat says in English, her red eyebrows coming together in a look of mild concern.

“It’s okay. It’s fine. I got cut,” Steve says. “Your friend? Did you see him? Did he say anything?”

“You _muszáj_ , hm—” Kat’s head bobbles side to side as she thinks. “More fast.”

Steve isn’t sure if she means he should have been faster to avoid being cut or faster to catch up with Bucky, or both, but whatever her intent, she’s right. Steve nods.

“Yeah. I should’ve been faster,” he says. 

“Faster,” Kat repeats in English. She holds her hands out, thumbs and index fingers in L-shapes, and quickly draws her index fingers in to her thumb tips, the sign for ‘fast’.

“Hey! Good job, Kat!” Steve says. “Did Clint teach you that?”

Kat shakes her head, pointing up to the ceiling. “I say Jarvis, more _jelnyelvi_. More hand signs,” she explains, gesturing at the television screen, which does seem to be showing a program with children signing to each other. “Jarvis make TV more hand signs.”

“That’s great,” Steve says. He sits down on the couch next to Kat with his hand still pressed over the cut on his arm, quietly watching a mix of live and animated children teaching signs. Kat also sits quietly, but her hands move along with the characters’. 

When the show ends, Kat looks at Steve again, her lips pursed. “Your arm makes bleed more,” she says. 

Steve moves his hand away from the cut. It probably does need a few stitches, though the bleeding has slowed. “Do you want to come with me to get it looked at?” he asks. Kat is nodding before J.A.R.V.I.S. even translates. 

“My friend, he is…” The rest is in Hungarian, “good with a knife.” She switches back to English and smiles at Steve. “I also good. Kayn-eye-vees. Knives.”

“Your friend told me you were,” Steve says. Kat smiles happily.

“I am a very proficient asset,” she says in Hungarian. 

“Yeah, he said that, too. He said you’ve helped him a lot.” Steve stands up and walks to the apartment’s front door, stepping into his shoes. Kat, still in sock feet, follows him.

“Yes, I assist on many missions,” Kat says, via J.A.R.V.I.S. “My friend does not always remember.”

Steve opens the door, waiting for Kat to walk out before closing it again as he says, “He’s getting better. He’ll get even better than that. He wants us to take care of you for him.” 

“I take care of myself. I take care of my friend, too. I will take care of you and Cleent and the Pepper woman,” Kat states via translation. 

“You don’t have to do that, Kat. We’re adults. We can take care of ourselves, okay?”

Kat looks down at Steve’s bloody arm, everything about her face saying ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’, from the set of her mouth to the one cocked eyebrow. “You be faster, then maybe okay,” she declares in English. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve mutters to himself. Kat presses the button for the elevator. “I’m the slowest super soldier in Stark Tower.” 

Kat nods in agreement. “Yes. We will train until you are faster,” J.A.R.V.I.S. translates when she speaks. “Then you can be proficient, too. No more getting stabbed with knives and bleeding.”

The elevator doors slide shut as Steve sighs. “Thanks, Kat.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Helen Cho: Your fave could never. J.A.R.V.I.S. and Bucky reached an accord. A slight degree of dishonesty on Kat's part regarding the presence of sugar.

J.A.R.V.I.S. may not have seen fit to warn Steve that Bucky was in the apartment—or maybe he couldn't; Steve should probably ask about that when things are calmer—but he has a medical team ready and waiting for Steve as soon as he and Kat step off the elevator a few floors down. A woman in scrubs and a surgical mask reaches for Steve's arm, then jumps back in surprise as Kat puts her small body in front of Steve's, baring her teeth and hissing at the woman.

"Shhh. It's okay, Kat," Steve says. Things have never felt less okay since he'd adjusted to being 70 years in the future. "She just wants to help."

"No touch!" Kat demands, quite loudly and in perfectly pronounced English. That phrase must be important, important enough for Kat to not only look it up, but to either practice it or play it over and over in her head. Steve's heart, already tight and hurting in his chest, breaks a little more.

"They work for Stark," Steve promises her. Kat stares at him blankly before returning her glare to the woman in scrubs. From the pocket of her Captain America hoodie, Kar produces a small, sharp knife fashioned out of plastic. Steve thinks he recognizes it as part of a pitcher from one of the cabinets in the kitchen.

The word isn't 'knife', Steve realizes. The word is 'shiv'. Kat has somehow managed to make a shiv from a plastic pitcher. Bucky's words ring in Steve's ears. _She's not a child. She's an asset._ She's the same as Bucky, and she's got a shiv in her hands, and expects to protect Steve from the perceived threat in front of them.

"Kat! Stand down, soldier!" Steve manages to shout. Kat's posture relaxes, her arms dangling at her sides. Steve snatches the shiv from her limp fingers.

"Captain Rogers?" the woman in the scrubs says, lowering her face mask. She looks familiar, so she's probably a long-term employee of either Stark or a previous employee of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

"No touch," Kat hisses.

Steve holds his arm up in the woman's direction, sidestepping Kat. "Pretty sure I could use some stitches."

Kat's glare doesn't soften, but she doesn't protest when the woman in scrubs takes Steve's arm, frowning at it. After a moment's inspection, the woman drops Steve's arm.

"I think if you were anyone else, we'd be discussing permanent nerve damage, not just stitches," she says. "I'm Dr. Cho. If you'll follow me, I can repair this for you."

"Dr. _Helen_ Cho?" Steve asks. When she nods curtly, he hangs his head, somewhat abashed. "Ma'am, I believe I owe you an apology."

"It's fine. I do this for Tony and Pepper from time to time," Dr. Cho says.

"No, I mean I owe you an apology for thinking you're one of Stark's employees. I knew your face from somewhere, and I assumed it was here or S.H.I.E.L.D. It's not, though." Steve follows Dr. Cho into a small, sterile-looking room. "Ma'am, I watched your TED Talk on stem cell cultures for limb regrowth. My friend Sam and I thought you were probably going to change the way the military deals with soldiers who— well, he works at the VA, and there are lot of veterans whose lives could really be improved by your technology, Dr. Cho. It's very much a personal cause for me, and it's a tremendous honor to—"

"Captain Rogers? You're bleeding onto the floor," Dr. Cho says gently.

If Steve weren't already mortified, he would be now. "Sorry, ma'am."

"You make _Amerika Kapitány_ no more bleeds," Kat demands. "No talk. More fix."

"Kat," Steve says weakly. "I'm fine, really."

"No _talk_. More _fix_ ," Kat repeats, splitting her scathing glare between Steve and Dr. Cho. She follows it up with a string of signs too rapid for Steve to completely make out. He catches 'stupid' and the sign Barton makes for 'elder' in the flurry of Kat's quickly moving hands. 

"Yes. You're right. I apologize," Dr. Cho says to Kat. She turns to the countertop and the small device on it. "Your arm, please, Captain Rogers."

Steve obediently sticks out his injured arm. Dr. Cho fits the device around it and types in a sequence of numbers and letters. The machine lights up and begins to vibrate faintly, then a stinging blue-white light spreads across the gash on Steve's arm. As Steve watches, the sliced muscles of his forearm seem to weave themselves together again, layer by fine layer. 

“That’s impressive,” Steve says through his teeth. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Kat narrows her eyes at Steve. “I’m fine, Kat.”

"You hurt," Kat says matter-of-factly.

"I've hurt a lot worse and for worse reasons," Steve tells her. Kat continues to look dubious, balancing her practiced scowl between Dr. Cho and the machine.

"Do you know what kind of blade it was?" Dr. Cho suddenly asks.

"Sharp," Steve says.

"I just mean that could impact how long this will take, depending on whether the blade was smooth or serrated, what type of material it was," Dr. Cho says. Steve shakes his head.

"Smaller than a standard issue Ka-Bar. Bigger than any switchblade I've seen," Steve says. "Lightweight, so probably polycarbonate rather than steel. Didn't see a serrated edge. Didn't look fullered. Probably primarily used for throwing, based on past experience."

Dr. Cho nods, leaning over to make a few rapid adjustments to the device's calibrations. "Very helpful. Thank you, Captain."

"No, ma'am. Thank _you_ ," Steve says.

Dr. Cho smiles. "Captain Rogers, it's a genuine pleasure to—"

J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice breaks in. "Captain Rogers? Mr. Stark is on his way down to have a word."

Steve sighs. "Perfect."

"I stop?" Kat asks. She looks a little too eager.

"No, Kat," Steve says. "You can't stop Stark. It'd just make Pepper upset."

"No make upset the Pepper," Kat agrees grudgingly. "My knife?"

"No, Kat. I'm not giving it back."

Steve thinks he hears Kat mutter "I make more," though that doesn't make sense, her talking to herself in English. Steve doesn't have an opportunity to ask her before Stark comes sweeping into the medical bay, looking so dramatically put out that Steve thinks he must actually have been a little worried.

"One day," Stark says. "We can't even go _one day_ without your old buddy busting into my building and—"

Steve clears his throat loudly, tipping his head in Kat's direction. The wind goes out of Stark's sails somewhat. Kat stares back at him, unimpressed.

"Hey there, Cap Junior. Everything going well with you?" Stark asks.

"All okay. _Amerika Kapitány_ make bleeds. _Orvosnő_ fix. _Kap_ take my knife."

"Wow, that is a lot more English than she could speak twelve hours ago," says Stark.

Steve nods. "You should see her sign. She's got me beat by a long shot."

"I make signs," Kat agrees, signing along with her words. "Make faster."

"I can see that," Stark says.

"Where is the Pepper?" Kat asks.

"In bed, asleep," Stark says. "Do you realize what time it is?"

"I thought it was somewhere around six, seven," Steve says.

Stark sighs dramatically. "Try closer to three a.m."

"Oh. Wow, okay, I am really, _really_ sorry about this," Steve says to Dr. Cho, who nods her gracious acceptance with a faint smile. "Stark, please apologize to Pepper for me."

"She doesn't even know I'm gone. She's used to me and my weird hours," Stark says.

"Pepper is good," Kat says, face and tone both gravely serious.

"I know, right?" Stark says. "And yet, she keeps insisting she likes me anyway."

"I'm sure she's privy to information we aren't," Steve says, in what he likes to think sounds like a diplomatic voice.

"Pepper is more taller. She get the lo mein and shrimps," Kat adds.

"Yeah, she's a regular peach," Stark agrees. "Tell me we get to go after this guy, Cap. That's twice at least he's broken into my place, and this time he's damaged the merchandise." Steve shakes his head, but Stark plows on. "Look, I know what the guy meant to you, but—"

"No, you don't," Steve says bluntly.

"If you would just let me—"

"No," Steve repeats, more sharply. "I said no, okay. I can't stop you from doing whatever it is you want to do, but you're not getting my blessing to hunt down my best friend. Kat's— he's her family, too. You can't expect me to sign off on it."

Stark puts both hands up in defeat. "Fine. No blessings for Cap on bogie hunting. I get it. I’ll handle it on my own."

Kat seems to finally fit together all the pieces of their conversation, because she abruptly levels a violent kick to Stark's right knee, dropping him to the floor with a meaty thud. She's on Stark's back, pummeling him with her fists, as Steve shouts at her to stop.

"Stand down! Kat, stand down, soldier!" Steve yells, trying unsuccessfully to pull his arm from Dr. Cho's device. "Kat, stop!"

"No touch my friend!" Kat shrieks. "No touch my _Kap_ friend!"

Stark lets out a string of swear words as he finally manages to drag Kat off of him. "How strong _is_ this kid?"

Kat screams and tries to slash at Stark's face with her hooked fingers, tries to whip her body at him and bite him. She twists in Stark's grip and almost manages to headbutt him in the face before a nurse or orderly wearing light blue scrubs jabs her arm with a needle. Kat howls her outrage and slaps the syringe from the man's hand, sending it careening across the floor. She jackknifes her body just as Steve is able to contort himself enough to reach for her, and her teeth sink into his arm just above his wrist. She clamps down hard enough for her teeth to grind against bone before her eyes roll back and she goes limp.

"Well, that was dramatic!" Stark says through panted breath. 

"Captain Rogers? Are you alright?" Dr. Cho asks. Steve shakes his head.

"Check her. Is she okay? What'd you give her?" Steve demands.

"Same stuff we sent with you to Prague, is my guess," Stark says. "Doctor?"

Dr. Cho responds with a brisk nod. "We had a dosage prepared in case the Win—" Steve has to give her credit; her flinch when she looks at his face is barely noticeable. "Sergeant Barnes, I mean, of course, decided to pay us a visit while we treated the Captain."

Kat lets out the quietest ghost of a hiss. Her teeth are bloody. Steve holds his bitten arm up. It looks like he's only just extricated it from a small bear trap.

"I guess I'm gonna need this machine a little longer than we thought," he says.

The sun is up and Kat is still sedated when Steve carries her back to their apartment in his newly-mended arms, after profuse thanks and apologies to Dr. Cho, her staff, and Stark. Kat feels significantly heavier than even the day before, and Steve realizes that in the short time he's known her, he's already gotten used to lugging her around. He'd never given any real thought to being a father—he'd put the plane down in the ice before he and Peggy had even gotten that dance—but he imagines it might have been a little like this, if he'd made it through the war. Kat, violence and brainwashing aside, isn't too different from what Steve and Peggy's kids could've been like. What Bucky's kids might've been like.

She _is_ Bucky's kid, though, for better or worse. Maybe not biologically, but it's not like Steve's got the best track record of letting biology have the final say. He wouldn't be who he is today if he'd let his genetic limitations stop him.

" _Kap_ ," Kat murmurs.

"Yeah, I'm here, kiddo," Steve says. He shifts Kat so she's against his shoulder so he can open the apartment door, then moves her back into the cradle of his arms. 

Bucky is on the couch, seated awkwardly. Steve sighs.

"Are you just invisible to Jarvis now?" Steve asks.

"We have an understanding," Bucky says.

"Does Jarvis know about this understanding?"

"We’ve reached an accord," Bucky says.

Steve shakes his head. "Fine. Let me put Kat down."

He doesn't wait for Bucky's answer. Instead, he carries Kat back to her room and lays her on the bed. She rolls into a tight ball on her side, and Steve tucks the blankets in around her.

"I'm sorry for all of this," Steve whispers to her. He kisses her forehead lightly. She makes a grumpy sounds and curls up tighter.

Once Steve is sure Kat is safe and sound, he goes back to the living room, half expecting Bucky to be gone. Instead, Bucky is still on the couch, looking pensive and—a face Steve remembers all too well—guilty.

"Is your arm okay?" Bucky asks.

Steve nods. "It is now. She did more damage to the other one than you did to the first one."

"What she does is my fault, too."

"Maybe," Steve concedes. "She was trying to protect you, and me, too, in a way."

"Well, guess the both of us are shit at taking care of you," Bucky says.

"What are you talking about? You always took great care of me. And Kat's a kid. It's not her job to worry about taking care of me," Steve says.

"She'd want to, though," Bucky says. "It's how she's designed, same as me. We can't help but want to, but look at where it got us."

Steve sits down next to Bucky. Their knees touch, and Steve can feel how warm Bucky is. "Both of you are here with me, now," Steve says. "And I'm okay, see?" He holds out both arms. They're slightly pink where Dr. Cho's device did its work, but are otherwise whole and intact.

"Sorry I cut you, Stevie," Bucky says. Suddenly he looks miserable and exhausted, his face slack. Steve realizes how sallow Bucky's skin has gotten, when it always used to have a healthy glow to it. 

"I'm fine," Steve insists. He holds the arm Bucky cut out in front of him. "Look."

"Stevie…"

" _Look_ ," Steve repeats. Bucky does look down at Steve's arm, his eyes moving over the pink new flesh.

"Does it hurt?" Bucky asks.

"Not anymore," Steve says.

"Swear?"

"I swear, Buck. I'm all fine and dandy now. Barely even a scratch."

"I'm still sorry."

Steve shakes his head. "You can go stuff your sorries. I'd rather have you here than anything, even if it means I get a little banged up along the way."

"I just—" Bucky sighs, his shoulders slumped and his whole face a mess of tension and sorrow. "I'm tired, Steve. I'm so tired, but I don't remember how to stop moving any more."

Steve hesitantly puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You can stay here with me, and I can help you,” he offers. As Bucky relaxes slightly, Steve moves his hand across Bucky’s back until his arm is around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky relaxes even more, leaning into Steve until his head rests on Steve’s shoulder. 

“I’m probably going to hurt you again,” Bucky says.

“Then I guess I’ll stock up on Band-Aids,” Steve replies.

Bucky sighs softly. “I’m serious, Steve. I’m going to hurt you or somebody else. You don’t want me around.”

“Why’d you come back, then?” Steve asks gently. 

Bucky shrugs, his metal shoulder moving against Steve’s chest. “Couldn’t stay away, I guess. Doesn’t make me any safer.”

“Yeah, well, when have you known me to worry about ‘safe’?” Steve says. “Don’t you watch the news? I’m a superhero. I’m not in the safe business, Buck.”

“I shouldn't have let you take her. I should’ve stopped you in Prague.”

“Are you kidding? I’m crazy about Kat,” Steve says. 

“She bit you,” Bucky points out.

“She bit me three times, actually,” Steve says. “And I’m still crazy about her. She’s a good kid.”

“She’s not a—”

“Yeah,” Steve cuts in. “I know. She’s not a kid. But here’s the thing, Buck. She _could_ be. We can help her figure out how to be a normal kid.”

Bucky snorts. “What do you know from normal?”

“Fine. We’ll help her figure out how to be a kid that’s a tiny little bit more normal than she is now,” Steve says. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, his head barely nodding against Steve’s shoulder. “What about me?”

“We’ll help you, too. I won’t let you hurt anybody else, and if you hurt me, well.” Steve shrugs. “I heal fast, remember?”

Bucky nods again. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. He rests his cheek against the top of Bucky’s head, closing his eyes and listening to Bucky’s breathing slow. One of them probably falls asleep first, but to Steve, it feels like it happens at the same time. 

Steve isn’t sure how long they sleep, though he is certain they both sleep deeply and for a decent amount of time. Bucky stirs against him, stretching. Steve opens his eyes, which is when he realizes why they’ve woken up. 

“Hey, Kat,” Steve says. “Feeling better?”

“We go to food store?” Kat asks. 

“Sure. We can do that later, or we can have groceries delivered,” Steve says. He notices J.A.R.V.I.S. isn’t translating at all anymore, but Kat nods anyway. “Are we out of something?”

“Is no more cereals or breads,” Kat says. “No more crackers or apples or, hmm. _Tej_.” She moos to illustrate her point, and Steve feels Bucky shake slightly against his shoulder with a barely-suppressed laugh.

“Milk?” Steve offers.

“Yes, milk. No more milk.”

“Do we have _any_ food left in the apartment?” Steve asks.

Kat appears to think it over before nodding. “Sugar.”

Steve laughs, and Bucky even allows a small chuckle to slip out. “We can’t do much with that,” Steve says. “Jarvis?” 

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“We need some groceries. Can you find a delivery service for that?”

“Stark Industries has an account with QuickFresh grocery delivery service.”

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Steve says. “I think we need to start a list. We need bread, cheese, some kind of meat for sandwiches.”

“Cereals with many colors,” Kat says. “Cheese-toes.”

“Cheetos, Kat,” Steve says. 

“Cheetos, Jarvis,” Kat agrees. 

“Soup,” Bucky says. “You liked chicken soup, right?”

“No, I _ate_ a lot of chicken soup. That’s not the same thing,” Steve insists. “I like tomato.”

“Oh yeah, I remember now. You liked that godawful clam shit with the tomatoes in it.”

“You take that back! Manhattan clam chowder’s great!”

“Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one digging the clams!” Bucky says.

“You volunteered!” Steve says.

Bucky snorts. “Funny, that’s not how I remember it.”

Steve starts to argue, then he realizes Kat is still talking to J.A.R.V.I.S. and that the list is probably getting long and may or may not contain foods actually intended to be eaten together in some sort of meal. “Uh, Kat? What else are you ordering?”

“Foods,” Kat says, blank-faced. 

“Jarvis? What did Kat order?”

“No need to worry about the size or cost of the order, Captain,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says, which confirms that Kat has definitely fattened up the list. 

“Coffee?” Bucky asks. 

“Coffee!” Kat says. “I make!”

“ _I’ll_ go make the coffee,” Steve says. “Jarvis’ll make sure we have enough to make more later. Tell him whatever else you’d like. Jarvis, don’t let them order nothing but sugar. Real food, too.” 

Steve stands up, stretching as he moves towards the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway to look back at Bucky and Kat, both trying to plead their case with J.A.R.V.I.S. Bucky doesn’t look any less haunted, and Kat’s posture is too stiff for a kid her age, though nobody’s currently in the process of biting or stabbing anyone else. Even that peace isn’t guaranteed to last from minute to minute, but Steve’s already redefining what he considers a ‘good day’, and he’ll start trying to figure out what to do with the two of them _after_ he gets his first cup of coffee. 

He can hear Bucky and Kat arguing in Russian for a moment before Bucky calls out, “Hey, Stevie? Kat wanted me to tell you she might not’ve been telling the whole truth when she said there was still some sugar left.”

“I eat!” Kat confesses loudly. 

“Of course you did,” Steve mutters to himself, shaking his head. “Jarvis? You’d better add a few bags of sugar to that list.”


End file.
